cater
concern to those mad-moms few who arrest
those
who take lives in the crossroads and
do
their killing without a clue.
Don’t
drink and drive,
the caption read
after
the car on the screen was seen reeling
around
with a great speed down a lit street
like
a raving fiend gone wheeling.
The
tire’s high screech on the road harmonized
with
the break yanked between a quick look
at
the driver that took the lower mean
of
yet another “dumber teen.”
The
crash of metal—a collapse implosion
ensnares
the car in its sharp grind heap
as
the engine bursts with a loud explosion to
shock
the old folk out of sleep!
The
car then slomo wraps a worn out tree,
and
you got to wonder how many times and takes
it
took to frame the light right and glass flashes
with
the blood upon the breaks.
And
so the pale drunk is dashboard impaled
with
a face all smashed in and bent and
somehow
his car’s being further derailed as if
being
by some conveyor sent!
And
now his severed hand flies up all gored and
heaped
on with fingers three, if you can believe,
and
now I’m just sitting here getting bored
as
his head begins to cleave!
What
the fuck? I ask the muted screen just
to
change
the channel for a new recommend,
so
a refreshing beer ad can grab the scene,
telling
me to "bring a friend."
--Porter Daryl's Poems
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