VARBY
I hated VARBY from the moment I saw her,
Parked on that narrow curvy stretch of road under the ancient oak.
On every trip I had to work around VARBY,
Slowing down, giving ground, waiting, waiting, waiting
For cars going the other way to come around.
Going to work, coming home, getting groceries,
Little white VARBY sat there laughing at me like a gnome.
Why would anybody park there, there in the middle of nowhere?
Why would anybody have such a ridiculous license plate
As VARBY?
And why does VARBY never, never, never leave?
As days and weeks and months of VARBY passed
My anger grew, a rage unsurpassed, but a stranger thing
Came to pass when everyone said
My animosity was giving way to an unfamiliar generosity.
My wife and I held hands again and my son
Shared his plans and work was, dare I say, almost grand.
But as far as VARBY was concerned,
VARBY was something I could barely stand.
The VARBY rage was ready to blow like a snake that swallowed
A hot air balloon and one day I drove home around noon
Why did Mother abandon me she seemed to say
And thought today I will give VARBY a parking lesson VARBY
Will not soon forget and as I approached VARBY I hit the gas
And made straight for VARBY with her ugly dirty white
Her missing taillight and I crashed and we smashed and the
Rest just a hash and that teaches VARBY to
People gathered and gasped and some threw up in the grass.
The police car and ambulance lights flashed but other than that
There were only two things to see,
The old oak tree and a red SUV with what was once a head
Protruding from where the windshield used to be.
