a crappy peeling bumper sticker  a corner of it  waving and making eyes at him like a street-corner hooker put away wet

it caught his eye before the minivan did

a faded white Odyssey

Odysseys seemed obsessed with him

in traffic a slow one would be rolling ahead of him forcing him to pass and passing he recognised it was One

once in city traffic he found himself amid  --  had to be a convoy  --  or an Odyssey convention  --  you know the type  usually a string of Camaros Corvettes Thunderbirds coloured like brilliant candy  which at least might turn your head  tug a bit at your cock or clit like a well-put-together good-looking woman or man   PIZZAZZ!  rolling mechanical sex appeal  --  but Odysseys  

                                           dafuck  Comon!

                                                                         in city traffic they had him boxed up tight

in Tennysons Charge of the Light Brigades fashion

                                                                 

    Odysseys to the right of him   Odysseys to the left of him   Odysseys in front of him

Stormd at with shot and shell   Boldly he rode into the mouth of Hell

it occurred to him to confirm for everyone he told of his Odyssey conspiracy to that he ought to accelerate and smash into the ass-end of the one before him  torque the steering wheel violently  left and right  compel it to careen into the other Odysseys beside it  back off  jerk the wheel hard right  hard left  slam into and crease those beside him  and then stomp his brake and see if he had caught the last of the nest  ramming into him from behind

he didnt

because while occasion had him think irrationally

he didnt act on his aggression or deliberation

but because it had been orchestrated in his head

when those unfortunate times did occur

he danced deftly  exquisitely  to its particular choreography

and those without him

frankly

didnt stand a chance

not a ghosts prayer in Hell

that dull white Odyssey

like a melted bar of soap with maybe one more shower left in it

like pigeon shit spattering the tarmacked streets under the Elevated  the ironworked Ell  or Touhy Avenue beneath the Chicago and North Western Railroad overpass   or an old albino  you would have thought might have otherwise thought hed yellow with age like ivory  his patina finally spoiled

on that dull white Odysseys bumper

If You Enjoy Your Freedom

Thank A Veteran

certainly it was in error

most World War Two vets were dead

those he had known were 

they didnt sport bumper stickers of that ilk on their cars

they knew inside   

it made him sneer as it made him sneer when he heard people refer to themselves as sexy or brave or a bad ass

because a person who ascribes things to themselves arent  others would ascribe that to them  

since September 11 military enlistees were manipulated  back door drafted

they were abused for their patriotism which they felt inside their chest and minds

but wasnt thought through   

it was drumrolled steamrolled cried down from on high  

they were abused  

these veterans didnt fight for Americas Freedom 

September 11 wasnt an existential threat 

it was a bill of goods

a money-maker

sold and bookended by the Twin Towers by the ceaseless wringing of the thinskinned shiny hands of the Corporate dealmakers and Government enablers

Thars Gold in Dem Dar Hills

thats what the bumper sicker ought to read

albeit uh b-skyoo r

saw 0834, Thursday,  20  8. 15 while reading and walking

1438,  Thursday,  20  8. 15