All I ‘See’ Is Carpeting
by Joan Pond
The streets of Kensington gave me trouble,
so I doubled back to the flat.
Driving on the wrong side
I panicked at an intersection,
threatening to cut me in two.
I should have listened to you
and taken the tram.
Sheer hell will break loose,
for dinging your Bentley.
My ass is in a sling,
then over your knee;
while you explain why Yanks
should leave driving to the Brits.
Yet all I
‘see’,
is carpeting.