Who’s in the Trunk

Who’s that in the trunk?

Who’s body is going thunk, thunk, thunk?

This happens every time I go over a speed bump, the body hits the trunks ceiling and takes its share of lumps.

Who’s sound has ensnared my ear in its trap?

Who’s body can still make his trapped hands clap?

Who’s trying to desperately break free from inside my trunk?

I hear his legs kicking, clunk clunk clunk.

The man trapped in my trunk wasn’t going anywhere.

I’d open it up and make sure he’d stay right then and there.

I pulled over, opened the trunk, and punched him in the face.

“Stay where you are,” I shouted and showed him my large can of mace. He gave me a look of disgrace.

This seemed to frighten him to silence, though, because he didn’t say another word. He said nothing that could be audibly heard.

But just in case he changed his mind, I tied him up for the rest of my driving grind.

He was a dictator of a third world country called Camphoria. He would always say “this country’s for yah!”

His name was Gus Heard, but his people called him the biggest Rat Turd.

He was content beating his people daily, he said it was for the patriots acting bravely.

It was my job to capture Rat Turd and replace him with someone better for the herd.

Kidnapping him sounded absurd, but it worked, my code name was The Bird.

I work for an agency who’s name I can’t reveal. My mission classified, I caused real upheaval.

I drove Rat Turd to the airport to be flown to an unknown location. To this day he sits in a prison cell, pounding rocks is his new vocation.