I would say or do anything to get out of this situation.
Hey, I see clothes fluttering on the line over there,
and look at the nice tree for climbing, but,
hmmm, that pick-up truck’s tearing toward me,
brand new bright white, shining all sun and death,
barreling down the highway, oh,
and there’s a birdie flying far off, a tiny black blip
against this lovely blue and cloudless sky, and I,
hmmm, I’d better concentrate because death is coming.
Oh, how I wish I could fly like that, the dips and whirls,
so graceful, and me, I’m about to be smacked flat,
can’t run, can’t jump, the wind against me too –
And then it comes to me in a snap of the finger nails.
I will project my powerful thoughts into the driver’s brain.
I am sloth, hear me roar. And hit the brakes, buddy!
They screech to a halt. Wow! I am saved.
They get out, come over to look at me.
“Oh honey, he’s so cute,” she’s says.
“Yeah, and so slow,” he says. Bastard.
Hey, I thought project, a little help here, please.
And voilà, they assist me to the side of the road.
I try to think them a message that I was actually headed
to the other side of the road,
but geez these folks move so fast,
they’re gone before I know it.