Copyright reserved. Please do not reproduce without consent.
His Grandfather’s Road
by Ping Yi
His right to stay fit, whilst outfitted
in his splendiferous spandex, surpasses
your right to life and limb this day,
on the forest trail. His form flawless
amidst the flora, his pace immaculate –
Hermes blesses his heels! If not for
your plodding along, wasting breaths
yakking away, he’d be at breakfast
with the Prime Minister by now.
His necessity for velocity, mounted
on his silver-brushed titanium bike,
arrayed in dreamcoat lycra, negates
your naive belief that some speed limit
on a puny sign, along this green corridor,
protects you from bodily obliteration.
Zeus on high would forgive His Person,
absolve him of any sin, much less
mowing through you pins in His Way.
Her Desire for Discourse, with her Kindred,
on this rustic morn aburst with birdsong,
entitles her to stop her automobile,
crank down her window, and natter on
a Most Worthwhile ten minutes, in the middle
of the single-lane exit from the condominium during peak hour, notwithstanding
you two dozen drivers behind, each sleep-deprived,
compliments of that Nameless Evil who refuses
to house-train their new-bought Hellhound.
Dawn again, with rosy fingers showering
eternal kisses upon Them, as They await
the Golden Vessel to the Lyceum;
standing astride as Colossi and Progeny,
denying your cars leave from your lots.
Prometheans stealing your pre-booked chariots,
hurling wine glasses into the pool, howling
at Hecate’s moon. Lords and ladies abroad
in this everlasting Land of their Forefathers.
Copyright reserved. Please do not reproduce without consent.