I feel like the sound
Of our half fixed catalytic converter
The deep growl of our v8
The squeak of the tool box in the back seat
Pollutes the air
As we drive between mansions that never end
Surrounded by frogs chirping
And fountains bubbling
Breeze brushing through windows rolled down
In the quiet moments
Between the brakes and gas
How can our noise
Not pollute the chandeliers
Hanging from thirty foot ceilings
And the pristine driveways and steps
Holding no evidence
Of their fancy cars
And designer shoes
Ever touching them
YOU ARE READING
What I See
Poetrypoetry by me of everyday scenery Sometimes I upload in quick succession Be sure to check the part number, that you're not missing a part (even though they aren't connected by story line)
