Suburb

It seems we’ve reached the end of the tunnel
Crying and howling out of joy for a new day
But the strange thing is
The skies are all still grey

Dead lips on the sidewalk are puckering up
Blessing the bottoms of my worn sneakers
They suckle on crunched gum,
Cat call for me to come walking again

The clerks at convenience are droll
Looking up and down
The aisles are full of temporary
Appeasements, semi-comfort
And you quietly storm out with your drink dripping red

All kinds of cars beckon sweetly
“The smell of freedom must be at your nostrils, right?”
But I can only wish for the sense

Apartments
Condos
Ranches
Hells
Heavens
Hopes
Held on to because this is the end of the tunnel, again

The illusion of good weather helps
Facades of kind hearts and helping hands
Change-fueled talent? Longing ambitions
High school’s the best thing for them
The last thing for some, the only for
People rooted

Drunks and potheads should be happy
Rules and regulations seem on the brink
After all, they’re varying everything
Each new day, trying to get to the end

The sun’s dull patter
Keeps me awake and the driveways hungry
The houses are clamoring for flesh
The trees are protesting, something about extinction
A bird falls flat; flew through some gasoline

Adolescents run around
Adults watch inside, fearfully
Kids avoid the hazard, but some get kidnapped
And their innocence gets brutally neutered
Playgrounds are friendly places for
Every age

Plastic surrounds the existence of every living creature
And even some inanimates feel like
Inmates

And suddenly a flood
Of zombies, rebels, wannabes
Are flocking towards the tunnel
Going back into the darkness,
Running backwards.