Waiting for the light to change,
They look down,
Grinning from the heights of their
Ball caps and sparse whiskers,
Cigarette smoke and country music
Pounding out of stolen speakers.
Are they used to calling people out,
Getting their asses kicked,
Limping back to the trailer park
To regale the drunken crowd,
“You should see them other guys!”
In beer soaked braggadocio.
Then going out for another round
In tattoos and torn jeans.
The light turns to green –
And I move into the intersection
Watching in the rear view mirror
As the crash test dummies fall
From the height of the truck,
Kicking and cursing,
With billows of oil smudged smoke
Pouring from the blown engine.
–A not uncommon scene witnessed last week as I was driving home.