tagNon-Erotic PoetryDriving to Sarajevo

Driving to Sarajevo

byTzara©

My mood sometimes shifts
in and out of gear
like a Yugo with a bad transmission.

Not that they ever made a good one.

Right now, it's idling
and I'm headed down some kind of hill
in a fog so dense
I can't tell how far it is to bottom.
For all I know,

the road's washed out ahead,
and I'll find if this car floats
in the drift of the serene Miljacka,
though the rusted hole in the floorboard says,
mildly, "Oh, probably not,"
in its dry and practical Bosnian.

Still, I thank the ghosts

of Stalin and of Tito
for ordering all Zastavas bled
To the Glory of the Revolution.
So much so that I am well comforted

to see how my sweet vessel trails fluid even now.
Hang on, Franz and Sophie!
Let's hope some wise, judicial brake
don't fail us,
don't fail us,
don't fail us, any. Anyhow.


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byTzara© 6 comments/ 1524 views/ 0 favorites

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