Morning Drop-off
With dread each day my claim I stake,
For my daughter’s schooling this risk I take;
Personally, I’m sure I’d be way better off,
If I could avoid junior high school drop-off.
In from the left, and in from the right,
They come, they come, to no one’s delight;
Swooping in from the east, and in from the west,
Crossing all parking lines, since they know what’s best.
Normal civility is all cast aside,
And we see the ferocity that in all men abides.
Lurking beneath the veneer of smalltown Maine,
Imperialism that puts Romans to shame.
Super-extended-king-cab truck Huns,
Van Tartars, car Mongols put me on the run.
Some pull straight in, some on the diagonal;
Some cross four spaces in a manner most hostile.
Some just ignore all traffic indicators
And assault the front doors like ferocious crusaders.
I warn my daughter, as she exits with fear,
“Exercise caution lest ye wind up a smear”;
I sit for a bit planning escape strategies;
With secret joy, blocking lateral trajectories;
Rubbernecking, I back into swirling chaos,
Resembling revolution in Honduras or Laos;
Some are departing by swooping back out,
Some with U-turns, a honk and a shout;
Some pulling out and some pulling in,
I say a prayer, my freedom to win.
Finally backed up, then into forward gear,
All paint intact, I’m out of here;
Avoiding students who landed outside the drop-zone,
A turn to the left, and this bird has flown.
I’ve survived again, with luck like a clover,
But tomorrow is Tuesday, I must do it all over....
Copyright 2012 - Tom McCowan
With dread each day my claim I stake,
For my daughter’s schooling this risk I take;
Personally, I’m sure I’d be way better off,
If I could avoid junior high school drop-off.
In from the left, and in from the right,
They come, they come, to no one’s delight;
Swooping in from the east, and in from the west,
Crossing all parking lines, since they know what’s best.
Normal civility is all cast aside,
And we see the ferocity that in all men abides.
Lurking beneath the veneer of smalltown Maine,
Imperialism that puts Romans to shame.
Super-extended-king-cab truck Huns,
Van Tartars, car Mongols put me on the run.
Some pull straight in, some on the diagonal;
Some cross four spaces in a manner most hostile.
Some just ignore all traffic indicators
And assault the front doors like ferocious crusaders.
I warn my daughter, as she exits with fear,
“Exercise caution lest ye wind up a smear”;
I sit for a bit planning escape strategies;
With secret joy, blocking lateral trajectories;
Rubbernecking, I back into swirling chaos,
Resembling revolution in Honduras or Laos;
Some are departing by swooping back out,
Some with U-turns, a honk and a shout;
Some pulling out and some pulling in,
I say a prayer, my freedom to win.
Finally backed up, then into forward gear,
All paint intact, I’m out of here;
Avoiding students who landed outside the drop-zone,
A turn to the left, and this bird has flown.
I’ve survived again, with luck like a clover,
But tomorrow is Tuesday, I must do it all over....
Copyright 2012 - Tom McCowan