Roadside Attraction

I’m a roadside attraction; a novelty. A tourist trap for all to see. Snowy channel viewed by curiosity; Neon light blinking “vacancy”. A passing interest, second hand store, short lived affair, open house tour. A pop quiz, some bad press, a poorly written sidequest.

You interest wanes more than the moon, and you’ll forget about me soon, you’ll tell another about me, a quickly fading memory. I’m nothing more than a pit stop, a camping ground; you window shop. When you think back, my face obscured, voice distorted, dreams unheard; I’m the thought you forget when you enter the room, the song you remember just as a tune.

I’m a short film and a novella, the forgotten diner tin can umbrella; I won’t be missed when you move on, I’m brief, forgotten, like the dawn. You want something longer lasting, something you won’t forget in passing. I’m a guest room, a garage sale, I’m store brand, I’m yesterday…

…I’m the shortcut. Not the highway.

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