Sunday, March 26, 2006


Like a kicked cat the Chevrolet jumps
from my frustrated toe, a boss’ butt
the true target. At periphery a bounce,
I stomp the brakes, then more clearly
boy pursuing ball, safely
on the sidewalk. Many autumn
dusks ago a Buick’s skid
stopped inches shy of my young
bee-line toward an ice cream truck.
By such pure life preserving
reflex, drivers’ feet share
kinship spanning generations.

(c) Copyrignt 2006 William Morrissey All Rights Reserved.

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