Grey Wet Fog Of Emptiness
like a gray fog of wet emptiness
covering all realms of my vision
covering all realms of my thought
it is raining so hard, I can’t even see the road
the road - where I drive
windshield wipers sway
left to right
right to left
but they are too old - too slow
to ever give me clear vision
vision - of the pavement which lies ahead
the temperature is a million degrees outside
the windows fog from the pounding 100% humidity
no defroster, none that works anyway
I wipe the glass with my sleeve
in a flesh flash
these people wildly run across the road in front of me
but the breaks on this ancient sports car are old
they wouldn’t have stopped me
even if I slammed the pedal to the floor
near miss
their death in my hands
my death in theirs
pouring - forced water - forms passageways
rivers - to my either side
there is no way I can stop
no way to quit and wait this one out
if I stop - I’m dead
washed away/cleansed from the earth
at the hands of this nonstop deluge of liquid passion
no choice but to move on
through this rainy mountain village
this rainy mountain road
Southeast Asian rain
and you thought the rain covered roads in L.A. were bad
poem by Scott Shaw
Added by Poetry Lover
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