WALKER

WALKER
I don’t give a damn
what anybody else says:
I am the fastest walker in the world
seven foot tall Nigerians and
speed walkers have nothing on me
I don’t even try to be this fast
but I am
I’m damn quick on my feet
and am continually reminded of my speed
when walking down the sidewalk
because I have to weave
in and out of other foot traffic
I have to go onto the street
around cars
because I cannot stand
being stuck behind the slow pokes
the ones that amble
stroll
saunter
shamble
waddle
and just generally putz along
window shopping or
stopping to pick their underwear
from between their ass cheeks
who do they think they are?
when I walk with friends
they say, “WHOA! SLOW DOWN!
What’s the rush, man?”
well, the rush is death, goddamn it
I have things to do
people to spend time with
drinks to drink
places to check off
on my list of places to see
I have women to love
and bar tabs to ring up
books to write
trouble to get into
and back out of again
there are all sorts of roses
I’d like to stop and smell along the way
but that requires actually getting
from one bush to the other
so when you see me coming
or hear me quietly cursing behind you
nearly stepping on your heels
and shoving you along
kindly, oh so kindly
move your ass out of the way