poetry

Morning Commute

By Amy Thomson

Ice bites my cheeks as
fire fills my legs.
Zip through concrete trees
and metal creatures.
The black jungle floor
pops with yellow stripes.
Steel lions roar at
bulky sloth sedans
toting their babies.
The jungle’s eyes blink
red, green, and yellow.
My lungs start to burn,
begging for relief.
I kick my two-legged mule
into high gear,
streaming down the Broadway river.

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