Sunny Dee Light
Poem by Bera Tremoz
I just stopped to sit and watch
a few mantas pray around a man
lying in the street.
It took a while but flashing gyros finally made an appearance,
and when they did, the shitheads parked two and a half cars away
and only one space monkey got out for rescue op.
he had a big radio on his waist, and what must be fine lingerie underneath the uniform
but somehow no means of communicating with his partner
so he sent out a pedestrian, a fine piece, to knock for backup,
which never came.
ten minutes later, another saucer lands on site
yet again, only one space monkey gets out of for fresh air,
the equipment far too precious to be left unattended, I presumed.
meanwhile the unconscious guy is still unconscious,
he had convulsions before hitting the ground, says the fine piece,
and now well on his way to a fine hospital alley.
that's if the monkeys would actually hit the road
instead of arguing on who gets to drive this time around,
to hell with a bum's life on this fine sunny afternoon, it's too hot anyways.
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