04-13-2014, 06:40 AM
Coward
Lightning flashed, and I ran, because
that's what you do. You don't go jump
in the truck and fire it up, shout, "skree-yeee!," and thump
your bobble-headed Jesus as you fuss
your four-wheel-driving dooley's sticky clutch
until you get to some high, naked bluff, and--
stubborn imbeciles.
You don't . . .
Lightning strikes, and you find your belly! Pride?
No. You hide. Under rocks. The electric lights
are terrible. It's alright to shake like an old blind
dog. So why is it
that I
feel so much like a coward and so ashamed?
Lightning flashed, and I ran, because
that's what you do. You don't go jump
in the truck and fire it up, shout, "skree-yeee!," and thump
your bobble-headed Jesus as you fuss
your four-wheel-driving dooley's sticky clutch
until you get to some high, naked bluff, and--
stubborn imbeciles.
You don't . . .
Lightning strikes, and you find your belly! Pride?
No. You hide. Under rocks. The electric lights
are terrible. It's alright to shake like an old blind
dog. So why is it
that I
feel so much like a coward and so ashamed?