morning traffic

driving home
in the morning
wearing clothes
that stink
of the night previous
i slam
on the brakes
to avoid hitting
an old man
in a beat-up car
that cut me off
& instead
of honking
or giving him
the finger
or yelling
out the window
i just squeeze
the steering wheel
& let him
drive on

it's not his fault
he is most likely
on his way
to a job he hates
to help feed
the wife he doesn't
love anymore
& doesn't fuck him

& the kids that
don't listen to him

& to pay for
the house
to live a little longer
in the world
that forgot to
show him
some compassion

so letting him drive on
& helping him
get to the noose
a little faster
to put him
out of his misery
is the only
compassionate thing
i can do.

the man in line in front of me at the pawn shop

has syringe
scars on
his arms
hands the
broker a box
of video games
a kid
tugs on
his pants leg
"dad, when
can i
get my
games back?"

not all
is physical.

Erek Smith lives in Alabama. He blogs at
ereksmith.blogspot.com. He has been published
in The Poetry Warrior, The Thin Edge Of Staring,
Gloom Cupboard, Zygote In My Coffee, and Heroin
Love Songs with upcoming poems in Children,
Churches, And Daddies, Luciole Press, and Lines
Written W/ A Razor.

2004 - 2009 Underground Voices