Into The Veld For Sheer Spite 6.01.2008 Poem by Margaret Alice

We’ve got a new presence in the car,
a GPS voice telling us where we are,
a sexy GPS lady insisting we follow
the road – good grief, where does
she suspect we’ll be going, into the
veld for sheer spite? When she tells
us to turn we ignore her, her heart
must be sore; she remains silent for
a heartbreakingly long time, reconfi-
guring our route, then blithely instructs
us again: Follow the road – she is so
sweet, I wish I could keep – my
temper like that…

The GPS lady instructs us to turn ahead
of time into a dirt road, we prefer to
stay on the tar, her route is shorter,
but more difficult, we travel far; but
knowing the difference between dirt
and tar we prefer taking care of the car!
She instructs us to turn into the highway,
which is one storey above us, since we
can’t fly we pass and she insists we turn
around, we continue and she becomes
resigned telling us to follow the road;
she must be having nightmares about
people getting stuck in the bush!