Poetic Justice

Tonight I pedalled across town on my trike, on my way to a poetry slam, big fat snowflakes drifting down softly.

It would almost be romantic if it wasn’t MID APRIL.

And then there was some frigging idiot who nearly killed me.

 

Potholes and stones

Won’t break my bones

But the words you speak on your mobile phone

distracting, as you plough on in to the night

looking straight through my signal and lights

Those words, and your massive Dodge truck

Driven as if you don’t give a fuck

Those are the things that will crush me.

 

 

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