A Suburban Elegy

This morning
crime scene tape
tightens around
the trees
and the train tracks
nearby shoulder
a slaughter
in cool steel.

How many
calmly pass
and slip into work
to rhythmically
click the keyboard
while the songbirds
remain silent
near the railway?

This morning
tire marks
the street
in rubber
and in blood.
Before daylight,
a drunk driver
erases the words
of a better friend
and bends
to the pavement.

On the same street,
the oldest oak tree
is stricken limbless
by lighting
and the hollow molds
into a mouth angled
in everyday anguish…

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