The late afternoon winter sun stabs, punctures,
Puzzling the tricky, dainty gleam of workers’ cars.
These shanked conveyances are trophies
For those who slave away in plastic caves.
Glistening ice of black pavement beckons,
Salute, crawl and grind your sloppy bones.
Feel the piercing salt as you slither from your
Museum of stumped, immovable, gray misery.
I am submitting this for One Shot Wednesday, which is so popular with folks doing the head start, it might be called One Shot Tuesday Night. Please check out the fine collection there!