For a moment,
You hear the tires scream outside
And you stop working.
You know how they feel.
Slipping,
They try to grip the road,
But the tread refuses.
The motor asks for too much.
Heat builds from the friction
And the screech hits its crescendo,
Then they catch.
The remnants smoke in the street.
Not enough to blow them
Yet.
Now get back to work.
1 comments:
I like how something so inane is spoken of so poignantly here. I also like how, when you're frustrated, or tired, or just sick of what you are doing something so little as a tire screeching can get you to evaluate your decisions. It's quite odd. The last line too is good. This momentary distraction is just that and you have to return to the shit you were doing.
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