Making up time sometimes ain’t pretty

Making up time

Rushed for work and out of gas,
With no time for the looking glass,
 She snatched her keys and headed out
To face the daily knockabout.

 She tossed her briefcase in the trunk
And grabbed a mug and roll to dunk.
 She turned the corner at full tilt,
And raced her neighbor out in guilt.

Somehow, she zipped through every light.
Perhaps she’d make it; she just might.
 Her hopes were raised then, just a smidge,
Until she saw the tollway bridge.

The entry ramp was jammed with cars,
From rattling heaps to sleek Jaguars.
 She sat there waiting for her turn
And listened to her stomach churn.

 Her dashboard clock was ticking eight,
Just taunting her that she was late.
 The boss would gloat and call her out.
 Her well-earned raise would be in doubt.

But, living in the here and now,
She’d have to buy some time somehow.
 Her coffee drained, she glanced around
To spot efficiency newfound.

 Her makeup bag was in her lap,
While she sat in the traffic trap.
So, as she rolled the car an inch,
 She put her face on in a pinch.

 Her lipstick smeared across her chin;
 Her eyeliner was crooked, thin.
Just then, the car began to skid;
Mascara smeared across one lid.

 She spilled a compact on her skirt
And hit the brakes, now on alert.
The car behind her came too fast
And hit her bumper at full blast.

 She stopped and shifted into park
And leapt out, gearing up to bark.
The reason for her sudden strife?
The driver was the boss’ wife!

 They glared and stared, as if to slur,
With both their tempers much astir.
A cop arrived to part the brawl.
“Cosmetic damages, that’s all!”
c2007 by Linda Ann Nickerson

NOTE: Unauthorized use in printed materials, online, or in other published arenas is prohibited.

Adapted from public domain artwork

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