Roma Writer's Group
The Works of F. Robert Kelly
I was out riding along one day,
When a semi-trailer was coming, the same way,
He slowed to a linger,
The passenger then extended their finger,
And said "we're going to pass, if we may".
Then they drove off,
Having a laugh and a scoff,
It made my blood boil with anger it seems,
So with anger a rising,
It was speed I was emphasising,
As the light turned from red to green.
He was truly far ahead,
And the anger went to my head,
And the speed was undoubtabley poured on,
Then he went through a round a bout,
And I was nearly freaking out,
For I thought he was nearly gone.
Then as if by fate,
The light changed its colour,
But almost too late,
I had caught up with my eluder at last,
The light was about to change,
So I knew I had to think fast.
Waiting until we were even,
I shouted a few things,
Which surprised even old me,
It was a language I knew,
One called obscenity.
Why the look on his face,
Almost cracked me up,
He looked as if he was about to explode,
He even tried to get out of the truck,
As it slowly travelled down the road.
He would've killed if he could,
That is to say,
I think he would've,
If I hadn't sped away.
At the next intersection,
I saw a most curious sight,
People in cars were applauding,
Both on my left and my right.
If our paths ever crossed,
He won't do the same again,
I had marked up a point for the cyclist,
And I had got my revenge.
© F R Kelly 1998