Asleep

In a plastic chair they eat

cellophane wrapped meals under

tungsten filament bulbs.

The plastic TV fires semi automatic

plastic programs

through the high gloss latex

sheet-rock box;

insulation not quite muffling

the highway's sound

constant as taxes

common as gun shots

impending as cancer

The frightened hum

of rubber on asphalt

fiber-glass cars and plastic passengers

maul the fallen

leaves of November yet

sacred Autumn never comes to the four wall box.

the plastic plant is eternally verdant

industrial green #6.  While outside

The wind screams a death knell.

The lightning gnashes its teeth.