campbell mccormack
There is something waterish and lyrical
About two cars neatly evading blows at an intersection.
When the sky, two hours old and buttery,
Fills up the windows and blinds me,
I watch you both turn right.
What a world is this, where humanity sits at the helm of
Steaming, huffing, two-ton metal machines
And communicates through a series of flashing lights
And I am lucky enough to witness your matching
Streams of humanity graze each other,
And then move on.