Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2017
He stops and starts, he drives too slow,
He turns hesitantly.
He struggles reading street signs-
That much is plain to see.

He lingers at each corner
And others can’t get by.
He honks his horn incessantly.
No one can tell me why.

The old should face a driving test
to stay behind the wheel.
Forcing him to take a cab-
That idea has appeal.

I want to give the finger to this annoying S.O.B.
but when I pull up next to him
He looks a lot like me
John F McCullagh
Written by
John F McCullagh  63/M/NY
(63/M/NY)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems