well grasshopper,
you’ve got yourself,
in a bit of a pickle.
holding on for life,
on the transparent surface,
of my car window.
your determination,
in this billowing wind,
made you an instant hero.
one gust too strong,
you’ve left our slipstream,
65 was past your grip strength.
Did you survive,
this blustery trip,
this windy ride and tumbling lift?
oh.
now we know,
the story’s close.
The truck we passed,
with risqué stickers,
just turned on its windshield wipers.
