Tim G Young

NEW TAR

Sometimes men come to splash

Black tar across the cracks in the macadam

Of the street in front of my house

I never see them

Has to be a very early gig

The new tar always reminds me

Of a painter’s brush strokes

Heavy and fat, delicate and thin

However not something

I’d hang on my wall.

CROSS COUNTRY

I’ve driven my car cross the country

Over smooth roads and cracked

So many roads going to

So many places

It can be very confusing

And high speed racer drivers

Can sneak up from behind

And pass

After a lengthy tailgate

Makes me angry

Makes me wish my car as like

One in a cartoon

So when I pressed a red button

It would rise up off the ground

Jump over the tailgater

And deposit me at the nearest exit

I would have a mile long laugh