FUCK YOU AND DRIVE

2 blocks, and A LOT of stops!

Stopped in mid-traffic, by some yuppie with a cellie who had to gab it. This is no play, middle of the intersection, my mouth starts interjecting, ready with clout inspection. Traffic flies by, yuppie gabs and sighs, catches a feeling from my eyes. Yeah it’s reeling and I’m mad enough for a drive-by! “While you’re matching recipes, there’ll be a stacking death scene! You’re liable to cause an accident, teen queen!”

Can’t keep it in, discrete with zen, endure through bullshit again. My cure is to just let the rage get spent. Uncage it on the world over. Like a wren, twirling the globe to soldier. Meeting far away to mate and display, leave their ken and get bolder. If men are Marco Polo like Kevin Smith told ya? Maybe I won’t miss if I use my missives and prose to leave my notes across the globe.

Easily digested, pleases me to release stress easing life’s everyday tests in jests.

“SKREEEEONK!” Hocus blink and focus, get the instant scope to bust back on, that honk sounded like Godzilla lizard god blowing his shnozz! Battlevan’s horn! Aaah, more than prattle to adorn, it cuts through fog and thorny situations in the first statement!

This maybe my end, there’s that yuppie again, about to blow through a stop, meet the nose of the battlevan for a cattle-rampage pop! Fuck it, this yuppie lady is crazy you can’t get that lazy and get daydreaming in a parking lot!

My rage is kept in measure, for my treasure, but now I’m ready to get untethered! Undone no cure to endure; I’ve got kids in the back to care for! My mouth gets ready to shout. She’s got a man in the passenger seat? I’ve got a plan to get fast on my feet and a window to pull this fucker out! Don’t worry for him; I’ll put him back in. Defenestration is the intention of my placement in this situation!

No harm yet, my queen gives me an arm check. Battle van rider, the best damn driver I ever knew is my lady. It’s crazy but in navigating through the city I feel through and through like I’m HER #2. Still…                                  ...this isn’t road rage, this is a page to erase. Someone needs to know where they fucked up. I won’t touch a woman’s face, but her pretty boy in the passenger place? Yeah, he can carry a message through the days…

Unlock the door, half-crocked plan, sure, get stopped again. By her. Arm-lock. Restrained by my own dame! Damn, man. No insecure stand, I’m still sure of my land, just want to break this yuppie’s hand. It’s not stress to let shout or frets towards clout, it’s just busting justice I’m about!

Cold stare and right there I see the other car stop, the cell drop, the situation pop. Fizzle. Blow. “Yeeeeah?! GET OUT!” My lady’s eyes undisguised and Voice. 3 words. No choice. Yeeah. “GET OUT!” We roll. I learn to let go. Man, road rage is contagious, you know?