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Confidence not required . . .

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Author Topic: Confidence not required . . .  (Read 135 times)
« on: December 24, 2008, 07:50:06 am »
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just a heart and a keyboard.

Feel free to post any poetry/writings in here, or this part of the forum.
No flaming allowed.

A Routine Drive ~

So Iím driving along on the daily route and my steering wheel will turn on its own at the appropriate exit.
The cars beside and those in front of me are doing what they do every day ~ moving faster than I am.

Suddenly, in front of me, a host of red braking lights ignite in unison. While cars veer to the left, and skid to the right, clothing apparel whisks through the air, as if possessed by a demon. A jacket, a child's dress, a pillow, a blanket a gift wrapped red box with a gold bow. . . all torpedoing through the air and targeting cars on their descent. I slam on my brakes without a clue as to what to do next.

The huge tinted-window pickup truck which is directly behind me, is in swerve control with my rear end as its stop gap. Blinding are the frenzied blur of red tail lights, and deafening the feline screeh of burning rubber on the motorway.

Then, as I weave to avoid the cars in front of me and Mr.Tough Ford pickup in my rear-view mirror, I see it. I cannot believe it, but this surreal scene is morphing into the bizarre. There in mid-air missile-like descent towards my windshield is a life-size Santa Claus and one of his equally life-size reindeer.

Thud. Followed by another thud.
And in a split second a cherry-cheeked, Santa with freakish smile and twisted wire-rim spectacles and a one eyed, deformed-antler reindeer with a smashed bulbous red nose are staring at me from the other side of my windshield.
Then poof! They're gone.

I pull up along with some others at the side of the road.
I look around.
Santa and reindeer are being mulled under the wheels of the pickup. When the mulling is done, mangled Santa, now headless, and impossibly contorted reindeer, now...well, not whole shall we say, lay side by side in eerie repose in the middle lane.
About fifty yards ahead of me, along side the road, what looks like a gypsy family of five huddles together beside their not so tough pickup. Various clothing, a Christmas tree, bicycle, rag doll, and pieces of metallic green wrapping paper, lay scattered and draping over the sides of their pickup. Strands of frayed rope dangle from the trailer like Shirley Temple's curls.
This will not be the best of Christmases.

Luckily no one was hurt ~ count the blessings among others' misfortunes.

So much for a routine drive.

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