Roadside Respite

This poem was inspired by actual events I witnessed on the drive to St. Louis.

The old man sits in the plastic lawn chair

parked by the side of the interstate.

The open RV door patiently awaits his return

but no one  — including he —

knows when that will be.

For he lounges in that lawn chair

parked along the interstate

his nose buried in a book.

I envy him

so comfortable there

and wonder if the cops

will come and make him

Move

from his respite

along the side of the interstate.

 

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About sandrabranum

I'm a philosopher, dreamer, poet, writer -- not necessarily in that order -- and I get to write it all down and share it with the world thanks to the Wonderful World Wide Web!
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