6 PM ON THE BQE
Waiting to exit,
a dozen cars deep,
I glance out
the driver-side
window and,
beyond six over-
worked lanes,
behold rolling
gray acres of
gravestones.
As the minutes
perish and blow
across the road
to the cemetery,
I inch forward
from anxiety
to envy and tip
my newsboy cap
to those NYers,
who aren’t dying
to get somewhere.
–Joel Allegretti
Poetry