Stuck On EDSA On a Smoggy Evening

(After, well, obviously.) 

Whose road this is I think I know
Their houses are all hidden though
Behind the gates of subdivisions far
Inaccessible except by car

The passengers must think it fine
To be stuck here on a Friday night
The taillights shine as far as eyes can see
I hope we move; I have to pee

My lovely seatmate shifts and sighs
Sleeping through the televised
Media circus, accusations, lies
I watch her, then I close my eyes

It’s all enough to make me weep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. 
* * * * 

Evidemment, I’ve lost my touch. But I honestly don’t really care. I have a lot more fun now.