something to compare

We drove to the world's end and there betrayed
The ones we promised not to. While we drove
We talked about the afterlife and love,
Slowing to an impatient crawl, delayed
By roadwork, in an idling parade
We couldn't see the head or tail of.
We inched past miles of asphalt, reeking stuff,
Stroked by a rake of fire as it was laid.
And we agreed the analogues for hell
Came to us everywhere we looked in life.
But not for heaven. For it we couldn't find
A metaphor or likeness. Not until
We had betrayed our loved ones, at the end,
Did we have something to compare it with.


  1. When I was in the worst of it, I used to daydream that she was this sentimental. Alas.

    Another good body blow. You are a wellspring of ouch-ful poetry. :)

  2. Each of us has a secret talent. I suppose this is one of mine. Anyway, some of your friends are this sentimental - that's something, eh?

  3. Its a secret language I share, with those friends who are this sentimental. To outsiders, I'm sure it sounds like gibberish. After all, there's no personal profit in it.

  4. I know almost nothing about that sort of personal profit. :| But I do love this language.