187 – The Ambulance Of Justice

Poem number 187
The Ambulance Of Justice
The Ambulance Of Justice speeds along the dusty trail
With its siren screech a banshee, drawing near
Stopping seldom, always swiftly, as the light begins to fail
Over victims who are paralysed with fear.
A stamp of brakes, a skid of tyres, a momentary pause
Then a booted foot emerges from within
A figure clothed in shadows, six foot high and lantern jawed
A machete, metal handcuffs and a grin.
A languid lunge, a snatch, a slash, a slam of double doors
In a cloud of dust the Ambulance moves on
Leaving nothing at the roadside but a bloodstain on the floor
As a hint to where its latest prey has gone.
If you’re walking by the roadside on that dusty, lonely trail
Pay attention, stay alert and keep your head
Lest the Ambulance Of Justice, with its banshee siren wail
Picks you out, and hits the brakes, and makes you dead.


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