Elm Street Crack
by Violet V.
· 23/01/2026
Published 23/01/2026 12:00
That Elm Street crack, a gaping maw,
I hit it hard, against the law
of smooth transit, of quiet ride.
It jostles bones, deep down inside.
A filthy puddle, dark and grim,
reflecting grey, right to the rim.
It's always there, a solid blow,
a permanent reminder, slow.
They patch it up, a sloppy job,
but still it waits, to steal a gob
of tire tread, to jar and shock.
That endless flaw, a busted clock.