David P. Miller, “Warning”

orange line

Warning

Warning: I brake for acute childhood memory.
Warning: I brake for cloud formations.
I brake for radio waves bounced from the ionosphere.
I brake for the enlightenment of all beings in this very lifetime.
Warning: I brake for bunnies.

Don’t like my driving.
That’s not a question.
That is a command.
Do not like my driving.
I execrate my driving and expect you to do the same.

If you can’t see my mirrors, I can’t see
your scalpful of vipers turned marble,
the terminal whammy of your frozen face.
Oh. I forgot you weren’t a Classics major.

I brake for art’s sake.
I brake for reasons shared privately with God.
Does my driving arouse misgivings?
Then call 1-800-AUTOPHOBIA
and don’t blame me, I voted for—
Watch out!
Bunnies, bunnies, bunnies, bunnies!
I warned you, damn it.

If you can’t see my mirrors, I can’t see—
Lord in heaven, I can’t see.
Please tailgate.
Please follow closely.
Don’t blame me, I voted for you and you alone.
I was kidding about the vipers.
Please gape at my mirrors.
Ogle my mirrors!

 


David P. Miller’s chapbook, The Afterimages, was published by Cervená Barva Press. His poems have recently appeared in Meat for Tea, riverbabble, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, and What Rough Beast, among others. His poem “Kneeling Woman and Dog” was included in the 2015 edition of Best Indie Lit New England. With a background in experimental theater before turning to poetry, David was a member of the multidisciplinary Mobius Artists Group of Boston for twenty-five years. He was a librarian at Curry College in Milton, MA, from which he retired in June 2018.


 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s