Broadside

Walking down the street I see, another person coming toward me. I veer to the left but so does he, so we lock gazes but that helps not a wee. We bump into each other when trying to pass, 'excuse me', we say, with a hint of sass. Woe the day for within us there grew, several cannon holes with rival crew. 'Fire' cried the captains from within our chests, and the balls went flying, breaking our breasts. When the smoke finally cleared, we lay in a heap dying, 'Why didn't you go right?' we were both sadly crying. So always beware when faced with oncoming traffic, it may end in a scene as horribly graphic.

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