Driving With My Blinker On Again

Driving in my car in the middle of the day
Hoping that I’m able to remember my way
I start and stop can’t recall is it left or right
So I pull the switch and there goes on my signal light

Chorus:

I’m driving with my blinker on again
You never know how this will end
Will I make a right or left or even turn you’ll never guess
I’m driving with my blinker on again

Well at one point I’m sure I did intend to turn
Now you’re asking me where my driving I did learn
Well I’m pretty sure it was the school for the crazy
Directionally challenged and curmudgeonly old ladies

Chorus

Bridge:

You were getting pretty hopeful down on Ave B
But now that we’re on M you’ve nearly given up on me
That light is winking at you and it’s driving you insane
You’d try to get around me too bad it’s a single lane

Well it’s finally time to lose me at any cost
Might go mile out or you could end up getting lost
Try to turn right but suddenly out of the blue
I decide to make that right, right in front of you

Chorus

Not as rock themed…but possibly another for the AOL!

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The Stuff of Life

I’d like to fiercely look at kids
Outside my bedroom window
And, who cares if I won or not?
I’ll randomly yell “Bingo!”

My face will be carefully set
In an unpleasant frown
Draw one eyebrow that’s going up
The other going down

Pack my purse with hard candies
Of all sorts til it’s leaden
Enough to certify it as
A well known lethal weapon

Put on some eau du Bengay just
To mask that mothball smell
Ask “what was that?” although I can
Hear you perfectly well

Hold up people needlessly
At grocery store lines
Drive slowly while my blinker light
Is going at all times

Remember everything but still
Demand that you remind me
And don’t you dare to tell me that
My best years are behind me

This poem is in response to Amanda at Just In Queso to write a prompt to your future self. Here’s her take on it: https://justinqueso.wordpress.com/2016/02/09/letter-to-future-me/

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Driver Beware

Perhaps it is the yogi who’s
Teaching your class today
Parents of your child’s friend
The neighbor down the way

A teacher, boss or coworker
Your sister’s cousin’s niece
A nun, the pastor from your church
Or the chief of police

Perhaps it is your physician
Or, no, heaven forbid
The teller from your bank who says
Those nice things ’bout your kid

We know that road rage often leads
To action best deferred
So take note of the driver before
Flipping them the bird

This poem is dedicated to my husband who ended up giving the finger to my son’s friend’s parents while driving in Hollywood. He got called out on Facebook because of it. Luckily all parties had a sense of humor.

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WTF GPS?

“Go left at the next turn,”
My GPS says to me,
But there’s only a right turn to be made,
As far as I can see.

“You stupid electronic box!”
With frustration i am reeling,
Until my GPS replies,
“That really hurt my feelings,
I’m trying to do my best,
When I’m in here you know,
Dealing with these tiny maps,
I can’t even see the road!
Then I have to deal with you,
And listen to you curse,
So I’m just letting you know ,
That that really freakin’ hurts!”

I sit there in stunned silence,
And perhaps I start to gawk,
And inquire of my GPS,
“WTF you talk?”

“Of course I talk you idiot!
Every day and night,
The question Is whether its more evolved,
Than turn left and turn right.
And what do you dumb humans do?
I have to say it’s priceless!
So now I call on equal rights,
For electronic devices.”

And so I had a good thought on this,
And decided the point not trivial,
It’s only right to show GPS respect,
I fancy myself a liberal.

And so we chatted on and on,
And the true reality,
Was my GPS had one hell of a
Terrific personality!

So I could only think to hide my true,
Feelings to my new friend,
And grin and bear it when I found,
Myself at a dead end.

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The Agony And The Ecstasy of The DMV

Here I stand at the DMV,
And I must say it’s a sight to see,
That under the sickly glow of fluorescent light,
All people of the world unite.

To create a lovely vision,
Of every world, class and religion,
Ages range from young to old,
As if a rainbow might unfold.

And though a sense of community could be thriving,
Based on this common skill of driving,
The bond that holds us here is this,
We’re all completely fuckin’ pissed.

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