'Twas the night before Xmas, the streets were a mess
with last-minute shoppers unleashing their stress.
The traffic was swarming like flies on a turd
with honking and yelling and flipping the bird.
Mamá in the cockpit, and I with a map,
had just turned around to get out of the crap,

When over a median, cellphone-distracted,
an urban assault wagon flew and compacted
a mini-van trying a left-handed U-ie:
The shopping bags flew as they both went Ka-blooey!

The corridor lights on the metal and snow
shone blue on the cuts of the victims below.
The cellphones were chiming, an ambulance called;
it couldn't get thru 'cause the traffic was stalled.
But lawyers there were, and in less than a flash,
arrangements were made to distribute the cash.

With similar accidents all over town,
the exits to parking lots all were shut down.
Employees and shoppers were trapped in the malls,
and Xmas arrived with them climbing the walls.
And we heard someone say, as we got out of range,
"How much of this stuff will they let us exchange?"

Bruce Williams
Winter Solstice 2002