While it's hilarious, sure, I agree,
To honk your horn just as I pass on by
You on my bike while I go 'crosst the street,
And laugh a brutish laugh at my small scream,
It's funny, too, to hope that some day soon
A murder of foul crows cuts loose a stream,
A rain of well-used carrion, right at noon,
On you and your sweet ride. I'd not so curse
Were honking as I passed your only sin --
But revving up your engine with a lurch
Right for me? Lo, the harridan within
Me wakes and calls down all upon your head
A shower of shit. You'll wish that you were dead.
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