I am the asphalt. You drive over me. Barley recognizing my existence. Composed of hard rock and soft tar. What do you see? I have many flaws, many pot holes. Is that all you notice? Still, I get you to work everyday. I suit your needs, your whim. I am around at 3am, when you feel a sudden need for chips and salsa. I am there the next day on your drive to work or the club. All you notice is the divot that inconveniences you. Your tire slamming into it. No harm done, an annoyance at best. You curse at me. Still, I will be there on your drive home. You don’t even have to ask. Drive over me, I want it. I must feel needed. For the more you do, the greater chance I have of being repaired. Of being noticed. Rarely, a kind soul stops to patch me. Most just drive on by. Yet, I feel like the freeway, the autobahn. Thousands speed across me, worried about their day, where they are going, what’s for dinner.
So, I wonder, am I even important anymore?
6 comments
I feel bad for the asphalt when people urinate on it. Driving on roads is ok, but peeing on it? That seems inappropriate.
I kinda prefer off road trails.
Once you have been shat on, urine doesn’t seem so bad. At least its sterile!
Oh AssFault;
You’ve been so fabulous.
I hope everything works out. Please, stay solid.
Asphalt can’t seem to do anything but. 🙂
People get crushed like biscuit crumbs
And laid down in the bitumen
You have tried your best to please everyone
But it just isn’t happening
And that is fucked up
Fucked up
Whatever whatever
Is there ever not a Thom Yorke lyric appropriate to the occasion
I’m your black swan, black swan
do-do-do-do-do, do-do-do
Lovely. haha.