It was way past eight.
He was going to be late,
had organised a dinner with his mate.
In the car grabbed his phone, called Nate.
“Oh you must be joking, mate,”
It’s already on your plate.”
In stepped fate.
Didn’t see the cat. Braked.
wheels squealed, clipped the van of freight,
Tried to rebalance his weight,
as he hit the window; glass-plate.
Never again to be late.
Taken away in a crate.
Headed to the Pearly Gate.
Moral of this story being don’t use your mobile phone in the car.