As I get older,
I find myself less inclined
to any grace and tolerance
towards those
who show none for others.

I teeter-totter on the edge,
berating lack-of-indicators,
swearing at pedestrian-ignorers,
fist-waving mobile phone drivers,
and large battering-pram walkers.

As I get older,
I find myself more justified
in my personal ire
towards those
who engender stupidity.

I swing back and forth,
verbally menacing bible-bashers,
stultifying narrow-minders,
vituperating rude-schoolers
and selfish egress blockers.

As I get older,
I find myself more angered
by my lack of control
towards those
who exhibit none of their own.

I spin around-about,
castigating queue jumpers,
remonstrating rude servers,
before profusely apologising
and leaving embarrassed.

As I dizzily stagger
from one day to the next;
from one rage to the next;
I am grateful for my passion,
regardless of where its directed.