freakin’ drivers

How many times you see
some car meandering
driverless, it seems
then you realize the driver is
some little woman or guy
head tipped back so he
can see over the freakin’ dash
like a freakin’ little kid —
all’s you can see is
this tipped back freakin’ head
and maybe knuckles hooked
over the steering wheel
Is that any way to drive a car?
I ask you:

Like maybe this vehicle
is navigated by nose:
driver sights along
his freakin’ beak
steers by smell only —
there’s a freakin’ plan!
gives a whole new
freakin’ meaning to
stink stank stunk
— that’s a passin’ car
all he needs is a freakin’ fedora

An’ that’s another thing:
damn hicks drivin’ like
‘ey’re th’on’y car on th’ road
right down th’ middle of ‘er
never heard of no rules —
shit! I gotta hang up now:
some damn fool jes’
ran a green light right
inta the side o’ me. ‘Bye.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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