30 poems in 30 days: 16

Running low on inspirational gas again, so I'm dipping into another exercise book.  Opening The Practice of Poetry (Behn and Twitchell, eds) randomly, I find an exercise I've never tried, "The Poetry Obstacle Course," by Marcia Southwick:

Write a poem in which you include approximately one object and one action per line. Each individual line should make sense in and of itself, but don't worry about connecting one line logically to the next.

Challenge accepted.

*

Instructions

Leave the cat asleep on the blue bedspread.
Get in your dirty silver car and back down
the narrow drive, fast as you can,
but don't hit the pink bicycle
left by the neighbor girl on the gray lawn.

At the end of the street, turn right.
Watch for schoolchildren, huddled
beneath backpacks, trudging to Lincoln Elementary.
Wave to the crossing guard in his neon vest.

Slip past the rows of sooty houses
that crowd up to the lip of the football stadium,
say goodbye to the shopping mall,
say adios to the rows of cars lined up already
in front of the waking stores.

For the moment, obey the posted limits.
Ignore the mountains of half melted black snow,
don't look at them, even if screaming mouths
press up against their crusty skins.
Forget the clouds in the forecast.  Forget
Persephone, languishing in the underworld, her
long vacation, taking a vow of silence,
hiding beneath frozen concrete. 

Point your car toward the freeway
and stomp on it, honey.

Head south -- follow
the fleeing geese.