Please! No Ski Boots!
“Look, I’m a crazy writer!” I scream at
the sheriff of Nottingham,
“I’m being forced to live
in internal exile here
and I’m not supposed to be driving
and when they find out I was they
are going to lock me up
and throw away the key.
It’s ten thirty at night
this drunken skier just
stepped out in front of
my blue Toyota ski
bum car and you tell me
where the hell he was
skiing at this late hour?
When I hit him his
ski boots came all the way up
smashed my windshield, I
panicked and slammed on the brakes,
and he shot off the hood
his skis and poles were flying everywhere
and he hit the ground real
hard with a dull sickening thud
and a real deep moan.
Now my car is like everyone else’s
in the mountain’s of Colorado
it’s temporary tags
are expired and it’s
uninsured and now
the windshield is
cracked and broken.”
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