Making bellicose interpretations leaves less space for
mediation; and instantly that shit hits the fan you’re in
the span of its judgemental-passenger-seat, still wide
of the mark; would you rather be seated at a tangent -
less an ingredient critical to its integrity, or more of an
augmented, comforting moment’s afterthought, laying
peacefully freed an arena’s arbitrary authority; well, it
may be too late to renegotiate - you made the choice:
In yelling look out in a way guaranteed to alarm you’d
braced your feet firmly against a nonjudgemental role,
played the adversary; the reply, don’t yell at me when
I’m driving hardly explains why the ‘stationary vehicle’
wasn’t seen in time to avoid emergency braking - but
effected a no-collision-event as its saving grace; - so
Belatedly we survived another day - so far anyway …
© 21 December 2015, I. D. Carswell
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