She honked her own horn loudly, just to show that she belonged,
Whilst leaning out her window waving to the honking throng.
A builder who was next in line, raised his middle digit way up high,
She'd never seen the likes before, and then she wondered why?

She thought it was a good luck sign, and returned the gesture lightly,
With smiling face, and sparkling eyes, assured she'd done it rightly.
The milling crowd along the street was chanting words of 'wisdom',
The news was spreading quickly now, about God's Holy Kingdom.

Towards her strode a monstrous man, with tears welled in his eyes.
A sinner she could tell at once, for him she sympathized.
She knew that he had come to pray, as would others queued behind,
She saw no anger in them, for her Faith had her so blind.

  But as he reached her idling car, she saw the lights had changed.
She put the pedal to the metal left her converts disarranged.
The lights turned red, as fast she sped, across the intersection,
And proud she was she'd left behind a holier inflection.

Then sorrow flashed across her face, for in her rear-view mirror,
She noticed others had to wait, which made her heart beat dearer.
She stopped her car, alighted, waved to those believers back in line,
And raised her middle finger - and gave them all the good luck sign.


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