English poetry

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Almost taste the flavour

It was a fat-tyred 4WD utility hard back,
The sort of ute you’d expect a contractor
To drive, except it was plastered with tacky
Stickers, and no genuine subby does that.
It snailed down the Range at 30KmH, girl-like,
Braking every bend, the donkey driver
Sending bad karma, wandering double white
Lines again and again. It was less distressing than
A burning irritation; my imagination, or have
I mellowed some – a pedant doing penance
Paid in trailing time, a wisdom wasted as I
Beamed him potent pictures of my mental boot
Buried tersely in his ample arse; that thought
At least replaced the other evil thoughts I fasted on.
But I bought myself some charity and gave
The dork his space, and he excelled himself, increased
His snail-like pace and broke the Law by speeding
Through restricted zones besides the school. No doubt
The man’s a fool who’ll suffer for his stupid act,
Though not today. He had his sway with indolence,
He had his day of insolence; I’m proud I kept my peace
And waited in the queue bemused to let good fortune
Favour me. Hell, I almost taste the flavour


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Poem Almost taste the flavour - Ivan Donn Carswell