wtf

A pome

I was gonna name this 'The Five Minute Poem' but it took me almost seven. Here is proof that everyone is different, if by some strange chance, proof is needed. My inspiration was Robert Frost's “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” No, really. My alter-ego, Herman, was involved. I can't help it, he's always there. If you proceed, you must be ready for anything.

WTF

Sometimes things may come to pass

with such fury, one might ask,

"Had I needed some refresher

of mortality, or class?"

Just yesterday came a reminder.

A girl walked, I was behind her,

On my way to my day job,

Carrying my lunch, and binder;

It was such a lovely day,

I felt good; life was but play,

Considered I my strength within

And took great strides while on my way.

And as I strode, I felt yet stronger,

Striding thus, I could no longer

Walk behind the girl I followed

At last, I passed, I moved to conquer,

Moving quickly 'mongst the crowd,

Like an armored tank I plowed,

Through the thronging people there,

my power un-matched, I allowed!

Now I must add, I touched no one,

I cut none off, was having fun,

'Twas just adrenaline that flowed

A river of it; thus, not one

Could halt advance of one so bold,

so dashing, yes, with might untold,

and yet I felt no inkling

Of what would shortly, there, unfold.

For onward came, on speeding bike,

A large male student, feeling like

his mount was a ballistic missile,

The sidewalk was, to him, the pike,

He must have thought it was a race,

As he advanced at blist'ring pace,

'Twas urgency, not malice there

Upon his strained and youthful face.

The speeding kid could not get past

Another striding forth that fast

At right angles to his journey,

And totally knocked me, on my ass.

Lying still, it just felt prudent.

I'd seen no advancing student

What I saw was naught but stars.

Felt great before, but now I doodn't.

Poem's over, metre blasted,

Lying here, I'm body-casted

Feeling like it'd been a truck.

And I'm thinking,

"What the fuck?"

********