Witnessed:

Mission and A St.

Yes, the light had turned green,

And Yes, the white-haired passenger

Was looking at something,

Pointing it out to

Her husband,

The driver,

Who tried to see

Where she was indicating

Instead of

Burning rubber

Round the corner,

Clearing space

For the next car,

Whose passenger—

Unable to tolerate

The less than

instantaneous response

To the newly green light,

Perhaps certain that

This moment’s pause

In the precious progress

of her soap opera life

Would have horrendous

And long-lasting

Ramifications—

Leaped screaming

From the car

And dumped,

From the great height

Of impatient righteousness,

A supersized soft drink

On the Elders’ windshield,

Startling them

Round the corner,

Before reentering her car

And squealing down Mission

Toward

The headlines of her

Precarious existence.

Bruce Roberts, 2013

Saved by

Sound

 

Yeah, that’s me!

Hear me coming,

did ya?

Jack you to attention,

did I?

As you searched

And searched

On tiptoe,

Squintin’

in the sun

Desperate

For the source

Of my wicked fine

sound

Blessing the world

As I make

The Appearance,

Grace that

parking lot

Slowwww–

Windows wide,

Stereo announcing,

Gifting my city

With my

indisputable taste,

Like anyone

Could possibly

dis me

As I park it,

Struttin’

Swaggerin’

Dancin’ on

in to the store,

To my radio,

My radio,

My Radio,

MY RADIO–

Decibels cranked,

Righteous!

Bruce Roberts

2014