Poetry Bus 14th February

More and more I am turning my hand to poetry, now that I have given up playing the saxophone to please my Beloved.  I notice three picture prompts on this week's Poetry Bus Blog. The driver is Dana Bug. So here is my effort, based on  -

Caddoc Laments

Unless your journey is essential
don't go in snow. That's really mental,
as I learned last month to my cost.
I drove my chair out in the frost
and snow. I'd castored barely half a mile
before I had a nasty pile-
up on a smooth and snowy lot.
But what had shunted me was not
a drop-head easy chair like mine.
It was some drug-fuelled careless swine
driving a souped-up two-seat sofa
at sledging speeds. He was no loafer.

We leapt out, slammed out doors and faced
each other in the frozen waste,
blamed each other, as drivers will
for causing this upholstered spill.
"Why don't you look where you are going?"
"You jerk! You might have thought of slowing!"
"That chair ain't built for snow like this!"
"A box of rust your settee is!"
"Go-faster stripes! Outdated curves - "
"A write-off's what your heap deserves!"

Just then we spotted blue lights flashing
beyond the trees, saw cop-chairs dashing
towards us through the wintry snow.
We said "The time has come to go."
We fired our motors. Just our luck!
Our furnitures were firmly stuck
together by interlocking springs
protruding through their horse-hair wings.

The SWAT team circled. Bull-horns roared.
I thought "That's going overboard!
I set out for a winter drive.
I'd like to get back home alive
and not end up a bullet-blocker."

Next time I'll drive dear Ada's rocker.