Hannah O’Brien – Pavement Dominators
“I just got a bit fed up of slow walkers taking up unnecessary pavement space…”
‘scuse me, pardon me, um, hmm, sorry, can I jus-
right, GET OUT OF MY WAY.
I’m unsure as to whether you believe you’re simply making good use of streetly resources,
if you’re unaware of the correct level of personal pavement space
designated by society to each footpathed individual,
or if you’re just too emotionally involved with your Greggs steak bake
to notice that leisurely cruising,
in a space designed for a maximum two and a half persons each way at any given time
is simply unacceptable.
Just because you look like you’ve polished off fifteen Freddos within the last hour
you seem to think you’re chocolate.
Or God’s gift,
created through divine intervention.
But if I’m honest,
I have a mild dairy intolerance
and perhaps God wants to divinely intervene
on your choice of trainers
because they’re Donnay
and he thinks you’re stuck in the 90s.
Your concrete crimes make me sick.
It’s a pavement, not a slavement.
Perhaps the pavement slabs are tired of pavement slobs like you
walking all over them.
I’m not sure whether you’d rather I politely pat your back and ask,
“excuse me, my fault entirely but would you possibly please mind if I just squidged past?”
whether you’d rather I just go in for the sly shoulder shove,
or simply liquidise my anatomy,
gush through the gaps of your podgy pavement pals
and solidify on the other side?
At any rate,
the situation is complicated by the fact you’re clearly a bit of a gangster,
So if I was to rap this up
Maybe if you take your eyes off the ground,
and learn that dumfounded I stare into the back of your anorak,
my glare would spare you of the smack
it’s only fair that I whack
into your smug ugly mug.
So cut me some slack,
get some wax on the tracks