miles traveled
paved and graveled
all out on in the same grey town
growing tired
feeling non-inspired
do all paths end in familiar ground?

road construction
by my own deduction
will always catch the migrant unaware
as if nothing
so damned planned and man made
could ever need any real repair

exits and ramps
high voltage lamps
in pairs, to travel around and through
hoping someday
highways will be coming
both permanent and smooth

comes the bottleneck
makes the trek
hemmed-in, wheels with no room for play
rows of martians, marching
illuminated
leading us through a narrow way