The truck’s cab,

sparse, dark;

eighteen-wheeled,

manual efficiency,

parked

in a half-filled lot

of compact cars –

automotive giant

amongst

Lilliputians.

Seat,

adjusted.

Mirrors,

angled.

Seat belt,

clicked.

Wheel –

smooth & sleek –

firmly gripped.

When,

without warning,

she leans from

the passenger seat,

grabs the wheel,

stomps the gas…

With belch & roar,

the truck

l  u  r  c  h  e  s

left & forward.

Scrape

of plastic…

Screech

of metal…

The car below –

dwarfed,

overwhelmed –

buckles,

breaks.

Shake her free,

grab the wheel.

Release

the accelerator.

Correct course,

assert control,

& straighten.

Too late,

     too late.

The smaller car –

wrecked,

warped.

The damage,

done.

— C.Birde, 5/21