Behind The Wheel
It was down pouring like a bastard !
I knew I had to drive and laid in bed till time to get behind the wheel.
Driving took a great ability to ignore the madness around you.
If you paid attention to the insanity of others, You would go insane yourself .
Let alone trying to maintain a conversation hoping your next fare wouldn't be your last.
That this prick behind you wouldn't pull a gun on you .
Or then again maybe you hoped he would.
Ending this hamster wheel existence .
Between the couples always either making out or fighting.
It was seldom a dull night.
Then there was the sitting around waiting in empty parking lots .
Fighting off the boredom and the desire to sleep.
You are a prisoner in a mobile cage nothing more.
I laid in bed watching the time count down.
Fuck I didn't want to drive in this shit!
Course I didn't ever want to drive to begin with.
But being Hollywood wasn't beating down my door .
Looks like I was stuck behind the wheel again.
(John Patrick Robbins is a barroom poet who's work has appeared in Red Fez, Ramingos Porch ,Spill The Words , Blue Pepper , Inbetween Hangovers , Your One Phone Call, The Outlaw Poetry Network . His work and words are always unfiltered).
The Beautiful Space-