The 110
Freeways lay bare,
A sight so stark in the cool, crisp air.
Newsom's decree, firm and wide,
Left lanes empty on the 110 ride.
The freeway through the heart of downtown,
Once alive with cars, now a silent gown.
No more the sound of engines' roar,
No more the rush hour's fevered score.
Oh, frustrated drivers, where have you gone?
The pulse of LA, once so strong.
Concrete rivers through the city's veins,
Now still, as if in silent refrains.
From the South to the North, an eerie view,
A city paused, under skies not so blue.
The asphalt's heat without embrace,
No tires tread, no hurried chase.
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