Rat Race

Guns fire for the rat race

I stumble on my suitcase

The crowd is frozen now

and I am slipping on their ice

Drive backwards down the highway

trees bending through the light rays

I see it now OK

I won't be trampled by my thoughts

Teeth twisting in the heatwave

Day dreaming of a clean wave

I see it go away

My thoughts are sleeping in the dust

until another day

I'll let them curl up in the rust