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

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