J. Michael Ward

Web Developer, Drummer, and Teller of Bad Jokes

Wet Amends

The scene:
A long, winding road with coniferous trees towering on either side
Fat, slovenly clouds hang overhead, graying with perspiration
A black tunnel, built with bricks and the sweat of men, looms at the end of the S-curved road
You lean in, and it envelopes you
You lean further, and it smothers you
The tunnel ends, and you wake up

Outside, it is raining
People dressed in black hoist black umbrellas high above their heads,
As if to salute your unwavering courage
Wearing your finest threads,
You look up at them,
And they look down at you
They look down on you