Little Pink Umbrella Poem by Joshua Mccoy

That little boy you just saw running across the water logged street with a chainless bike,
Was me.
That grain of sand you tried your hardest to fight the urge to splash on the side of the road with a tidal wave of water but did it anyway just for a good laugh,
Was me.
That drenched soul paddling thru puddles with eyes bringing with determination you saw it would be in your best interest to knock down a peg and spit at out your window and tell your kids in the backseat to do the same as u pass by,
Was me.
That homeless fool stuck in the middle of the street trying to cross you sought fit to throw your unwanted full cup of coffee at and then pull to a stop to flip off then speed away,
Was me blinded on the ground trying to wipe burning eyes of pain.
That wretched piece of filth you see in your rear view mirror stumbling across a shared parking lot of a store of indifferent eyes, you try your hardest to put out of his misery by slamming on the gas pedal in reverse only to smash his bike into the side of his face and pull forward to watch the bloody lump grow smaller in your compact mirror,
Was me with hair matted to my forehead by blood sweating in a stream down my face.
That cold uncaring stare you glare at a limping idiot on a crosswalk with a rusty bike as you rev your engine and blast your horn to hurry up and take off at break neck speed at the sight of green regardless if the crosswalk is clear or not,
Was me facedown on the ground flailing with arms twisted in the opposite direction completely.
That speck of flesh clutching an umbrella to his chest with an arm protruding warped bones and bloody pink tendons with an unbreakable will to give up, lifting his unresponsive body barely inches above the ground resting on his forehead alone, you sought fit to disrupt the flow of a busy intersection and drive over back in forth until blood gleamed on your hubcaps with pink tiny shreds,
Was me decapitated and grinded into detached bits and pieces by tire marks.
The only mercy shown upon this bloody piece of gum engulfed in a heavy,
violent downpour of heaven’s tears
was the swerving of cars not to hit what laid in the middle of the road,
all but one followed this pattern
and threw an empty beer can that floated into the gutter
and sailed right past my skull.