From a Distance
What if cars are blood cells,
With the red cells on the right
And the white ones trav’ling back to home,
There on the left at night.
The highways veins and arteries
We kindly pump along
Next all our fellow hemo-nodes,
A bustling happy throng
The ten car pile-up is a clot
With pressure built behind
The few cells squeaking through the gap,
Joyous at their find.
With road construction surgery,
We yell and fuss and clot,
But mind the orange barrels, we
Despite our tempers hot.
When blood cells die, they’re traded in
For newer, faster wheels.
With little blood-cell salesmen selling
Bigger, better deals.
Consumer gluttons, we transfuse
The streams out on the streets
That give the city life and breath,
And road beneath our feet.