At Your Despair Poem by Tony Avila Sampson

I'll tell you the way your tire blew,
It was from something sharp I quickly threw;

It sure did make a nice loud “POP”,
With quickness, it surely did drop;

The trunk tire hissed out all its air,
When I slashed your only spare;

Now if those tires do rebound,
They'll again just hit the ground;

May just slash off all them valve stems,
And then prostrate all those chrome rims;

With more and more air gushing shrills,
There's more and more snare thrushing thrills;

The blast of fun that's done in such a jiffy,
Is done with a style that's just, oh, so niffy;

So each chance I get, I'll leak more air;
Cause my happiness peaks at your despair;