Dogs 2012

MINOR MASTER
(7/12/12)


I see
him
in the
grocery
store

white
gangly
ball cap back
and to the
side
jeans sagging
sleeves ripped
from t-shirt

some
bad
tattoos

somewhere
in the late teens
maybe
early twenties

gansta
wannabe
is probably
what they
would call him
these days

when I
was his age
we would've
just called him
a straight out
punk

I
don't like
him

he stands
in the middle
of the aisle
rapping
to some
other
less obvious
individual

YO! YO! YO!

he says

we veer
to the vegetable
section
and leave
him
to his
lunacy

after
checking out
we proceed
to the parking lot
load the car
start it up
and look
for an escape
onto
a city street

there's
only one car
at the south
exit
so I pull
behind
the late eighties
early nineties
Chevy
of some sort

glad
that it appears
to be making
a right
turn

the vehicle
seems content
to sit
however

I look
down the road
and see
several openings
moving
our way

still
we
do not
move

I honk
at the loafer
and see
a head
turn slightly

it is
the punk

now
behind the
wheel

now
ahead
of us

except
he's sloped
severely
toward the door
like he's taking
a nap

shit

I check
the traffic
again
and see
a huge gap
almost to
us

still
he's immobile

I lay
on the horn
at this
point

he straightens
slightly
then guns
it

a breakaway
herd of cars
is almost
upon us
and I ride
his bumper
swinging wide
to the left
lane
barely avoiding
a collision

pissed off
I look ahead
to see
the fucker's face
in his side
view

he shakes
his head
slowly
and looks
not angry
but disappointed

I suddenly
realize
that on this
Sunday afternoon
I am
really
in no rush

I have
no reason
to risk the health
and well being
of my wife
myself
or anyone else
for that
matter

the punk
slows
in front of me
and signals
to move
to the right
changes lane
and I motor
on past

my wife
flips him off
but I
feel schooled

in this
instance
he is
my better

my teacher

I accept
my lesson
and head
home
a bit
more careful

a lot
more humble