Jean Esteve





I will be kind to bilious men
for whom the boulevard
is just a tarry smear of gloom.
Iíll give them room, and if oneís bent
on leading our whole line of cars
away, across, around, ahead,
Iíll nod him on as well,

for Iíve had my own illnesses
and, to tell the truth,
have yet to find a final cure
for aches and gripes and tics,
yet those in front and those behind me,
those on either side,
have not leaned too hard on their horns,
have kept their fingers in their fists
when the road shone black as it unwrapped
its awful gift to us.

Copyright © 2004 Jean Esteve.  All Rights Reserved.

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