Tattooed Wishes


Tattooed Wishes
2/4/2011
Copy Write 2011 by Gordon Kuhn
INTRO NOTE:
You will understand this event
I’m sure.
While driving around looking for a parking spot,
bushes blocking the view,
slowed to make sure the way was clear
another car slid into view
and
stopped.
And so I held my spot
‘till he then slid on past
but the shock of being startled spread across and on my face
led him to believe he could rooster walk
across my bow while I waited to drive into a space
that he now walked past and blocked
and all the while I wanted to kill the son-of-of-bitch
and the feeling went from bad to worse
when another driver took the spot I’d waited for
while he continued to give the look of threat
and I just wanted to smash his fucking face.
Me, angry?
Oh no, not me.

TATTOO WISHES:
So, our cars almost collided.
You dumb bastard driving there
beneath stars and a growing dark
there, while for safety slowing,
we in the busy parking lot.
You were going West
and I was going South.
I was aimed at a parking space
and you were searching too.
We had plenty of choices
so the problem was the view
that blocked us from seeing the other
which was the mother of the trouble
and the beginning of the problem stew.
as our noses both were spotted
by the other when the allotted
space between we two grew smaller
and in irritation you then took the lead
to pass before and park your stinking car
while I sat in escalating await
and in troubled contemplation
and wondered what next to do.
Then, oh then, you hopped out from your car
and stared at me with such a haughty daring look
which was book to that which challenge said
and God I wanted to smash your fucking head
‘til you be found listless and nearly dead
but for the wife, yes, the wife saved your life
you impudent son-of-a bitch
who walked with such a swagger
across in front of me
and dagger eyes placed them upon me
as if to say, “come on, you ain’t so tough”
ah, Christ, the promised land I dearly wished I could have led
you to and dropped you off in front of Jesus
whom I sure would have understood I just had to
answer that haughty swagger look
and close both your eyes
with fisted tattooed black and blue
but for the wife, I would have had my due with you
and fist tattooed a nice black and blue.

Red Corvette


Jan and I were going to dinner the other night when we pulled to a stop behind a red corvette that was stopped behind an SUV that was waiting for a break in traffic in order to pull out from the exit ramp on I-75 onto US 301. There was no place for the SUV to go, but the imbecile in the corvette laid on his horn and tried to get around the SUV on the right side. The driver of the SUV fortunately did not attempt to drive into the passing traffic for had he/she they would surely have been hit by a passing car. When the SUV had an opportunity to pull out the corvette raced past and had to stop at the red light about 200 feet down the road. I wrote this poem about the idiot.THE IDIOT IN A RED CORVETTE

11/12/2010

Copy Write © 2010 Gordon Kuhn

Last night——in darkening traffic,

I came across an automobile driving mome,

one, who, for the safety sake of the rest of us,

should have stayed, remained at home.

This was an impatient moron.

A blockhead born to be.

An ignoramus!

A sorry sight to see or find,

behind a wheel.

So important, he felt himself,

so——

so——such a deal

to no one but himself I think.

A self important imbecilic deal behind a wheel.

Oh, I’ll grant that his red Corvette certainly was mighty shiny,

even though his brains were most like sat upon and very tiny.

The jerk.

Just some unpleasant father’s unpleasant son.

One, who most certainly,

I’m sure you would find,

if not agree, had, most likely,

rushed from his expectant mother’s womb

screaming at the delivering doctor,

or an unlucky cab driver,

whoever there was to unhappily doomed be found

waiting to catch the most carping, niggling, block of loam

to sudden burst upon this blessed earth

upon this favored earth to retched burst,

and to thereby ever allow from his mouth the foam

of impatient disquietude the planet to openly and sadly roam

a most caviling critic,

or am I being a cynic,

a disparager of imbeciles, who,

with little regard for another’s auto condition or position in traffic,

will most readily honk his God damned horn.

Gordon Kuhn
Author
WIDOWS’ CLIFF AND OTHER POEMS
Read Now – http://bit.ly/cQydFC
Twitter – @ALPACAJUNCTION

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