Eighteen
Eighteen eighteen wheelers,
Circling my home,
Eighteen drivers
Eighteen helpers
Ready to trash my face
Seems we had a nasty
Highway race,
I went eighteen miles faster,
Never realizing,
It'd lead to my disaster
Eighteen angry pairs of teamsters,
Ready to kill me
What a nerve I had,
To speed by eighteen speeding truckers,
My future was looking bad.
I was hoping they'd run out of gas,
Or the cops would somehow show up,
Before eighteen sets of
Eighteen wheels,
Would make of me,
The first human road kill sup'.
Copyright © Tom Bell | Year Posted 2008
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment