Road Hog

(I got the idea for this poem when I was watching a TV show yesterday.) Because of a roadhog, my son is dead. He was only fifteen and now he has no more years ahead. I was trying to drive my dying son to the hospital on that horrible day. A man in front of me in an Oldsmobile wouldn't get out of the way. I honked my horn time after time but he wouldn't let me pass. I just saw his car at a diner and I'm going to kick his ___. The doctors said if I had gotten my son there sooner, he wouldn't have died. I'm going to go in this diner and invite that piece of trash outside. He'll be in a wheelchair when I'm done. He should be dead instead of my son.