Wyatt B. Flat

Poem By Tony Avila Sampson

Wyatt B. Flat is truly my name,
And punishment awaits those who I blame;

With a long knife that I swiftly swing,
Brings from a tire the sound of air leaking;

Some found their cars sitting lopsided or low,
Cause it gives me a thrill to get even, you know;

At each tire, with force, be the knife I thrust,
It releases the air inside with a windy gust;

The air, when cut free, makes a loud gushing sound,
And with quickness them rims go down to the ground;

I may, while slashing 'em, just suddenly stop,
Just to watch, with joy, the way they drop;

I may even give 'em a second quick slice,
Cause I don't care about the cost nor price;

Gettin' all four, leaves a car that can't go,
Then comes the surprise to find the need for a tow;

Oh, the inconvienence they get while they foot the bill,
But for Wyatt B. Flat, there be laughter and thrill;

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