I love my car horn.
It surpasses the greatness of the radio,
and air conditioning,
and even automatic windows,
giving my vehicle a voice on streets
filled with idiot drivers.
Singing in it's sweet monotone voice
the only sounds one can hear while doing
95 on the Turnpike.
Sometimes it's generous,
allowing someone into the flow of traffic,
guiding another vehicle into the
proper lane,
saying hello to a friendly face
walking on the side walk,
or whispering a thank you
to another soul who shares
my road rules.
Sometimes it's furious,
calling out the light runners,
and stop sign gliders,
and fools with kids jumping
belt-free in the back seat
who don't seem to understand
that my SUV will trample their
Honda if my brakes give way
when they cut me off.
©2007, A.B.
It surpasses the greatness of the radio,
and air conditioning,
and even automatic windows,
giving my vehicle a voice on streets
filled with idiot drivers.
Singing in it's sweet monotone voice
the only sounds one can hear while doing
95 on the Turnpike.
Sometimes it's generous,
allowing someone into the flow of traffic,
guiding another vehicle into the
proper lane,
saying hello to a friendly face
walking on the side walk,
or whispering a thank you
to another soul who shares
my road rules.
Sometimes it's furious,
calling out the light runners,
and stop sign gliders,
and fools with kids jumping
belt-free in the back seat
who don't seem to understand
that my SUV will trample their
Honda if my brakes give way
when they cut me off.
©2007, A.B.
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