Flipped Off on the Road
Young one, so eager to die
A finger flips out the window, maybe a curse.
Speed past me speedster.
I am stagnant.
You move steady, ready to perish.
I see you.
I hope not to attend services that feature you,
with one hand outside, a finger wagging from the casket.
Speed on speedster, get where you are going.
Today your child bumped their noggin against the coffee table. The little demon spilled my tea. The squirt became a nuisance quite quickly. I shudder to think of you reproducing another. How could you stand the sight of another you running around getting into trouble and reminding others of how much you’ve failed your parents? You’re an annoyance, so similar to your seed, a troublemaker with wide eyed wonder. Maybe one day this child will get into a mess too difficult to escape. They’ll cry for help expecting assistance. Of course I would never. You don’t pay enough for that. I barely get paid enough as it is. With added funds I could attempt rescue as an added sweetness. Too much of that can fatten, rot your teeth right out of your head. Yet you do love the idea of future pain, sweet nothings which seem harmless until harm is given. How pathetic the parent, the playschool provider, he who isn’t as strong as he thinks. My pity is plenty.
Rickey Rivers Jr (@storiesyoumight) was born and raised in Alabama. He is a writer and cancer survivor. His work has appeared in The Gray Sisters, Fabula Argentea, Back Patio Press, (among other publications). https://storiesyoumightlike.wordpress.com/. You may find something you like there. His third mini collection of 3×3 poems is available now: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07VDH6XG5