Mystery Monster
I saw the thing and I almost wrecked.
It was driving a truck. It had no neck.
It looked like evolution gone amuck.
What was it doing driving a truck?
It was a throwback from all & no age.
Its vertically slitted eyes were filled with rage.
This thing was to be avoided at all cost.
Yet, the fascination with it was wroth.
I felt like I should stop it, but how??
This thing was a least as big as a cow.
It was doing 70 on a very slick road.
Its pickup wasn’t carrying a load.
Maybe, with luck, it would spin out.
Have a wreck and bust its snout.
It has to be an experiment gone bad.
For it to be free is not very rad.
Then, ahead, there was a roadblock.
Police stopping all in every lane stop.
The ‘thing’ tried to ram its way through.
The cops were after it, just like I knew.
I followed them all where they went.
They blew out its tires, quite a stint.
The truck flipped over & it flew out.
It started running. They were all about.
They filled it full of holes & down it went.
After awhile it was up, with a limp.
They burned it with a flame thrower.
It twitched & thrashed & became slower.
Finally, it was still, burned to a crisp.
What was the meaning of all this?
I am thinking I will never know.
Traffic was waved on, moving slow.
Whatever it was, I hope it’s the last.
I almost threw up on my dash.
——————————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)