Engine disorder,
brakes screech...
A missing wall
Lady, tell me
how does your garden grow?
afterall
you are the one
who knows it all
Let me graffiti
in your grass..
leaning out
a battered car
to face a muddied bath
Swollen fingers stuck in the soil
words fire in this toil
A bleeding body in this car
a poem battered and now scarred
poems spat n often barred
others simply ticked n now they're starred
as a stranger passes by
smoking grass up on high...
why? oh why? oh why..
should I drive
poetry
Jason Christopher