regrets

Regrets.


The long road is a petrified asphalt river
and where it dips and falls into an abyss
it’s boiling and steam arises, cars fall in
and disappear, never to be seen again

I have warned them, do not drive when
the sun sets, but heedless they drive into
their own oblivion.

Ancient sorrow, it’s been said that under
the new road lurks s roman road, soldiers,
who had been promised eternal life, awake
when the sun drips golden blood;

Heaven help a driver caught up in their rage.
his many regrets are as useless as morning
dew on wayside weeds