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.

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