“Hey, Big Man,” I yell through the car window.
“I got your number, Speed Limit Charlie.”
I laugh, throw it in gear and start off slow.
He floors it and shoots off ahead of me.
I slam that old pedal to the metal.
Catch him at the light. He’s at the ready.
The race is on, we’ve a score to settle.
The light turns green, our V8s scream and shout.
First to the red light wins in fine fettle.
Four lanes are crowded, we weave in and out.
Horns blare as we force cars to pull over.
Speed and traffic laws we blatantly flout.
Breaking 80, we think we’re in clover.
Suddenly, a dame, three kids start to cross.
I pull right, a real boulevard rover.
Too late. Bodies fly. Stupid broad. Bad joss.
Not my fault, she’s the nut case who caused it.
I cringe. My challenge will end as a loss.
People surround my car, I can’t exit.
“Murderer,” they cry. “Executioner.”
Others rush to help the family I hit.
Sympathy? I feel nothing. I blame her.
I look to the red light, he’s there I know.
He flashes the vee sign, things start to blur.
“Hey, big man,” I mouth through the car window.
(Written for dVerse, “Mix and Match”. July 18, 2013.)