A Road

Shuttling along

with blinking lights and

commotion, my sight shifts

from the metallic rectangles that

rumble anonymously in-front and behind,

to the branches that shoot

upwards, a fence

of centipede trees that have

been pruned to make room

for the bustle of a road.

As I speed by, they continue

to grow,

gasping for the glow

that lurks behind heavy clouds

of smoke .

What is more alive:

the screeching of rubber,

or the silent defiance of something tamed,

stretching towards the sun.