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Check Your Six!
By Chris Zagst
Swamp Weasel
czagst@bellsouth.net
On my way home at last, traffic was clear.
Florida sucks, except this time of year.
January, sixty degrees, I can’t help but jubilate.
It’s my daughter’s birthday, tonight we will celebrate!
Was almost home when I hit the blinker.
I pulled to a stop, with a thought I did tinker.
Oncoming traffic, it first must abate.
I glimpsed in my mirror, but almost too late
Barreling down was some crazy bitch
And I felt my ass start to pucker and twitch!
Coming at me like a bat out of hell
The Reaper was close and a death I could smell.
Off like a shot I pulled into the grass!
Brakes locked, tires squealin’ as she went screamin’ past!
I sat for a moment as a shiver ran up me.
I flipper her a finger, adrenaline pumping.
It seemed pretty silly to even salute
With such a small token of my heartfelt fuck you.
A friend’s advice given to me long ago
Had just saved my life on that day fo’ sho’!
The guidance you give to a rider who’s new
May sometimes be shirked, but if he is shrewd,
Your wisdom is added to his box of tricks.
Ride safe my brother, always check your six!
Behind you are found many things that can suck…
Cops with their tickets and big freakin’ trucks,
Assholes in cars with a phone to their ear,
And death comes to fuck you from back in your rear
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