Wednesday, November 14, 2007

THE CHIPMUNK

Big-muscled humped-up red pickup truck
Throttling down the road
Spitting gravel
Between teeth of tread,
Headlights scowling,
Glaring,
Hungry for sport,
Hunting me down,
A blare of the horn.
Leap right—
Will I make it
Over the stones, and tremble?

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One Response to “”

  1. janetleigh said

    I like the questioning nature of your poems, Snake. I especially like the last 2 lines.

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