|
by Robert Stout Last chance for gas seventy five miles I saw the sign when I was a child I didn't understand it Today I do Today I have the fuel And watch as seven cars drive by With their gauges on empty Straight into the future Without any notice Any of them could have stopped Refilled Advanced Instead they followed one another Blindly into the desert Running on fumes Past the piles of burning money And lost opportunities And chances for life They weren't cruising past The gas pedals were pegged to the floor Full out Head on Into darkness Their lights barely flickering Focusing on the car in front of them Ignoring the warnings Missing the sights A daisy chain of ignorance The station is well lit It invites them in The bathrooms are clean The snack shop is full Signs point to it for miles around Open twenty four hours a day Yet they miss it every time Following the oblivious Leading the gullible Shots ring out in the dark Another one falls to the side of the road But they continue onward Forward Into a predetermined fate A life wasted A generation lost To join those before them Who also missed the sign Last chance for gas And no one comes I polish the pumps And sweep the driveway Fresh flowers bloom along the entrance I replace the burnt out lights Every day I clean the windows Everyday And watch them pass Every day Copyright 2018. All rights reserved.
|