By Mike O’Connell
years are clunky
like dragsters with
square tires
revving up to roar
but stuck at start
another epoch
trundles by
measured in historical terms
leaving exhausted
memories misfires trapped in
rusting engines
another mirror used up
straining to recall
the one before
the radio hips hops
flashing neon casting
shadows of dancers flailing
judged prejudged
commercially interrupted
another civilization
falters fails
ever loathing itself
for what it may become
flat tires attempting
to use freeways
to the future


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