The Tesla S ran over
a half-inflated latex glove
lying in the crosswalk.
One finger popped
like a gunshot,
then an Escalade
popped two more.
The only one left,
erect as a condom,
was the one sticking up
in the middle.
Joe spilled his Peets
all over his black
Allstar hi-tops
as he leapt back
from the street.
Swore that nothing
like that ever happened
back in Modesto.
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