Trucks and, to a Lesser Degree, Buses

There are occasions where I am inspired to write poetry.  Usually in the darker parts of the year when the sun crawls out of bed just long enough to count as a day, then retires to the south before the out of school are out of work.  For we who are solar powered it can be a soul dragging period.  So I write poetry.  And sometimes I write poetry to make myself laugh.

In truth, I cannot remember if the following poem was written when I was in a dark or light place.  Either way, poetry magazine rejected it.

Trucks and, to a Lesser Degree, Buses

I hate trucks.

Next to the sky scraper,

Tall and majestic,

With its sleek granite sides,

Reaching for heaven

And pulling my eyes with it

Into the skies,

I almost find peace.

The awful noise

Of the truck

And its gagging

Anti-air

Yanks me from my reverent

Wonderment

At our feats of engineering.

And I think,

We have so far to go.

I hate trucks.

Buses are scarcely better.

Headphones cannot defend

Against their noise.

Like conservative radio

It seeps in

And ruins everything.

The screaming behemoths!

And they always pass

At the most poignant,

Significant part of the song.

I could rewind it,

But the moment is lost.