No one-lane roads in the suburbs
Monster truck driver Brad fixes his
Seatbelt to tightly wrap around the brisk smelly air
And nothing else because he’s a badass;
When Brad drives he really drives
Passing through all the red lights
Getting the little kids in a hurry
He’s sure he’s the reason for the no trucks incoming
Signs because no neighborhood wants Brad
The small man with a small intestine
And a large truck to compensate
Of some Chevy make, his automobile got him
Ladies for sure and zero accidents without a belt
Except for once, when he stormed down the road
With heavy black metal blazing and windows missing
And crashed headstrong into a mail box containing
His heart, soul, and guts in a bundle disintegrated
Under the fiery fervor of a Chevy truck destroying it.
Small people in large trucks never mix, even when
They’re tall and in charge
Small wisdom, Small heart, Small size.
All in the same when they’re dead.