Ways to Die on a City Street
When you’re tired of life, a city street
Is an excellent place to die.
If it’s your maker you’re longing to meet,
Go outside. This verse will tell why.
-
A cleaner is sprucing a window
Precariously high, he’s earning his bread,
When he lets go of his bucket though,
It picks up speed before hitting your head.
-
A woman is walking her pitbull,
She’s well fit, the dog’s friendly, it’s fine.
But while you’re busy getting an eyeful,
The Bus driver just cannot stop in time.
-
This morning you hear on the news,
A loony’s escaped from the bin.
It’s a million to one that he meets you,
But your dismal lotto numbers are coming in.
-
A Vendor is selling his lunch snacks,
You buy something he’s claiming is meat.
That afternoon you soil your own slacks,
By evening your immune system’s beat.
-
In my opinion, there are too many foes
When you dare to venture outside.
I’m staying indoors reading poems and prose
And scribbling away on Protagonize.
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading a chapter in the story
Eight Million Ways to Die. This chapter
was posted on July 15, 2008 by
Baffs.
This story is filed under:
Humour, Just for Fun, Poetry
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