It was near-dinnertime…
summertime –
it was July, I’m pretty sure…
I was in gridlock traffic…
glued onto Old Julian and 23rd…
it was then that it started raining…
not water –
but the worst of profane words…
a glance in the general direction…
of the commotion that I heard…
on this day found me staring…
down the angry
rainmaker’s chambered rounds…
but it wasn’t just simply the one …
many toted guns –
pulled from various waistlines…
they’d all lost their damned minds…
c’mon now, it’s rush hour –
let’s steer away…
from the road rage…
somehow –
by then, I’d counted all of eight…
angry pistols being waved…
by many angry knaves…
time to go my separate way…
side streets –
red the green repeatedly…
leather seats in triple digit heat…
green trees –
to smoke alone…
in peace when I get home…
and fuck me to tears…
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georgeforfun 