The shouting match
by Elizabeth Challinor
The car swerves to the right
The driver honking on the horn
For the old man in sunglasses to get out of the way
He parks next to the narrow pavement
The old man walks on
Then, as if having second thoughts
Looks back in indignation, calling out in protest
I was on the pavement!
The young driver shouts out through the car window
This is not the pavement!
Yes it is!
Take off you glasses
And so, the shouting match begins
Of course, the young man wins
Technically, it was not the pavement
The old man shrugs his shoulders, walks on
The real question
Not only left unanswered
But not even asked
Why does driving a car give you the authority to treat anybody like that?
