Another day seized, my body transported, my world transformed
Choking in the headlamps, I drive and follow my dream of freedom
We are the clowns with cones for the pot-holed nation
I’m living in a world of eight billion people & 1.4 billion cars
And in England, 35 million cars and 60 billion traffic cones
On every road I drive these innocent creatures nudge and stare
They are our nations’ skeletons and bones
So many signs, diversions, roads closed;
I cannot find the road less travelled
With cars, trucks and buses before, beside and behind
Hemmed in on every side in my mobile Cathedral
I listen to the archbishop and priests conducting the parade
The King, blessed with holy water, is given a crown
Glittering jewels on his head for his Coronation Anthems
Our procession trickles down the road and I watch
Red and white cones guiding, from beginning to the very end
—
Yes , there’s too many of us .
Comment by David Zigmond on 7 May, 2023 at 7:37 amMaybe the fantasy-illusion that we construct of the King and his coronation can offer us a little dreamy respite from our quotidian tawdry and crowded world.