Human, have you ever leaned back
Stared at your ceiling
Paint and Sheetrock peeling
And had a spider fall into your mouth?
.
Human, the very thought unnerves you
Of eight legs spastic and twitching
Movement in your body, always itching
Did you know we feel that every day?
.
Human, have you built heaven and hell
Playing your God in a sandbox
Turning twigs into keys and locks
And then accidentally swallowed the grit?
.
Human, that is how we serve our time
No prison but immobility
As the paths between your life and your facilities
We do our job, but what happens when skid marks lead to broken bodies?
.
Human, have you gotten skin grafts
That leech away at history
Disturbing scores of gravelly mystery
And all for the sake a smoother aesthetic?
.
Human, your tongues can be damnation
For a little swatch of paradise
You play your hand and roll the dice
Yet you wonder why the world shudders?
.
Human, how your life shudders and clutters
For a system of imperfection
Lemming politics and misdirection
Are we not still loyal to your needs?
.
Human, we won’t run away
We bear the rumble strips like calloused scabs
The groaning, monotone muddle and drab
And the weary pretenses of time and tires
.
Human, cross your roads carefully
We have no breath to bait
But still, we’d rather you wait
Isn’t it better to have patience and keep your heart beating?
.
Human, we do not weep
There is not directive to our lives
Love, and words, your society deprives
But aren’t we such steady companions?
.
Human, have you not painted us
You have not listened to the rumble strips
Woken up and come to grips
Instead holding us in memories of sad, twisted wrecks
.
Human, we do not bleed rosy
We don’t need the pulse of evolution
Mother Nature’s cardiac solution
And yet, can you tell us why we are still so bloody?
.
Human, we are not the ones that keep you safe
Naught we are, but the medium of travel
Blacktop, concrete, paint, sand, and gravel
Would your journey be complete without us?
.
Human, we only want to be remembered
Intersections, car accidents, toll booths and mailboxes
So little meaning in your world, just road-killed baby foxes
But is it not enough that we are here?
.
Human, never sing ballads in our murderous names
Just remember the lullaby of rumble strips
That single moment when you came to grips
When the road’s voice saved you from both ourselves