I’m just like that old woman
Her gray hair thrashing her face in the storm
Of a silky black, sadistic night
As she walks along the stark, dotted yellow line
Of the frozen two-lane highway
Exposed in a thin hospital gown
Looking for herself anywhere but where she has been
When I curl my cold fingers around the wheel
To navigate my way ‘home’
Past a blur of blinking, indecisive stoplights
Alone save Simon & Garfunkel
Suggesting that they will ease my mind if I allow
Too preoccupied with the journey to wonder where
Looking for myself anywhere but where I am-
We’re both tired of traveling aimlessly
And it’s getting late
Tell me what you think.
i had to read this quite a few times. i couldn't quite put my finger on what i was thinking. this poem gives off an aura of past and present writing styles. the words in the first half seem new, fresh and more mature. the second half seem reflective on past writings. overall, it's a very moving piece, filled with inner struggle, great descriptions, and an awesome parallel to the old woman. i kept having this empty feeling, like it's missing something, which could be precisely what you were going for. i don't know. the last lines are haunting. this was a long comment. sorry.
I'm... not even sure what to say about it.