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Two Tickets Doin’ 95
| Open Poetry #44 |
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Two Tickets Doin’ 95 |
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Newpoet Member
since 2008-05-16
Posts 72 |
I escaped the library labyrinth with The Great Gatsby in my palm. Jumped in the seat of a white Nissan and sped away. Accelerating on the burning black highway with no cars in sight The increasing fastness of smooth yellow lines fades into one Dreaming of nostalgia and forgetful of the road ahead of me, The wailing sirens of slobbering swine lurk behind. I recognize his pale pig face and numb eye stains. He struts his pig strut, up to my window and snorts “What’s the hurry, pal?” I watch the fat features oozing from this creature as I hand over my identity with a grin. The monster with a silly uniform and stereotype glasses walks to his flashing car and sits for an eternity. I judge the delusions of my dismal fate. His next officer jargon will be turmoil. Stealing time, he waddles back to my Nissan and casually hands me two hellish tickets! One is 90 dollars and the other is 290 I hope I made this surly oaf proud. “I won’t have to tell your mother that her son is dead.” With an escaping chuckle, I reply, “alright.” He backs away from the scene of carnage, leaving me to ponder on the long ride home. |
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zaxby Junior Member
since 2009-03-05
Posts 48California |
I liked how you linked personal thoughts into the theme of this piece, even came up with some words of wisdom to those younger drivers out there bearing cop hate. |
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