The only way out of my neighborhood
Into the rest of Cheyenne. Now I sup
On still more rage, though I know I'm as good
For blaming as the red and white Ford truck
That just plowed into Deep Blue's back tire when
I dared to cross the street where he was stuck
A-waiting his next chance to join again
The greater stream of traffic. I did think
He'd waved me on across like a good guy
But then he lurched. I stopped just on the brink
Of getting fully hit -- don't want to die
Just when things in my life are looking well
But how I wish that driver were in hell.
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