Posted by Atticus on September 30, 2005, at 18:59:34
Electric Pegasus flies
On a
Gas station sign,
No juice to light him up
And his
Pumps are long dry,
A myth of asphalt freedom
That’s just
Way past its prime,
And if you could hear plastic,
Then you
Could hear him sigh,
Once he used to mean something
That was
Sleek, chrome and fine,
A white-walled Greek chariot
Blasting
Down a white line
With wings forged from hot pistons,
Didn’t
Roll, it could fly,
Gasoline poets penned flame
Verses
On a paved sky,
And they quoted “On the Road,”
Proclaimed
Freedom is mine,
But they never did find it,
They just
Ran out of time,
Now they just ride underground
On the
Number 6 line,
Only chrome’s subway poles
They grip,
Deaf, dumb, and blind
To long lost and forgotten
Vistas
Forced from their minds,
Ask about their jobs and lives,
They’ll say
Everything’s fine,
Electric Pegasus
Is gone,
Left him behind,
But you can still see the worn
Sign’s ghost
Haunting their eyes,
The stratosphere once kissed them,
They still
Miss the divine.
poster:Atticus
thread:561389
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20050910/msgs/561389.html