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Highway Maintenance

The Highway Maintenance men
vans full of tar coated buckets,
double dosed yellow lines
and a cauldron of hot pitch
hitched to their vehicle,
peedled down Park Avenue.
They stopped; ate brown bread rolls
spread blue cheese and tuna in overalls,
a mid morning moon
gazes amazed as they chomped
on meaty glazed pork pies.
They measured a lie of land,
noticing where to repair,
scraping away flayed remains
of rogue wild life, staining the fast lane.
They shoveled spades across hard shoulders
saying, “These frozen times
make cracks a mile wide,
but we’ll still get people from A to B
and have them all home in time for tea.”

13 Dec 11

(define the words in this poem)
(838 more poems by this author)

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you wish, larry no lurker lark
 — unknown

I'm always wishing

Larry daft head Lark
 — larrylark

so what exactly are they eating, tuna or glazed pork? im confused
 — unknown

and you would be eating tuna and glazed pork

Larry cordon Bleu Lark
 — larrylark

your poems usually exact a mischievous air. it always adds a sense of unexpectedness to your work. the last line comes across as vaguely if not definitely questionable about whether it will actually happen or not, of everyone getting home in time.
 — listen

Its a weak poem listen, dull, plodding and in the final analysis should have been consigned to the bin and i know it.Thanks for the crit and i hope to hear from you soon

Larry always listening Lark
 — larrylark

Larry anymore
 — unknown

another bread and meat poem?
is it the month of the hoagie?

i like "beemed benignly down"
 — mandolyn