To slow walkers, to talkers,
To crowds and texters alike.
To people who loudly talk on the phone
And people who ride their bikes.
To people who, on rainy days,
Carry umbrellas that nearly poke out my eye.
To people who don’t understand the rules of the road
And always walk on the wrong side.
Thank you for never watching where you are going
And walking slower than a turtle’s pace.
Oh, how I love when you step on the backs of my shoes
And let the door slam in my face.
Oh, the fear — yes, the paralyzing fear
As people on their bikes zip by.
Because of them I have nearly died
Too many times to even quantify.
Traffic jams in Dey Hall, stampedes in Lenoir,
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Honestly, I’m surprised I’m still alive.
If it’s this bad when you walk, I can’t help but wonder
What do you do when you drive?
Every day I overhear people talking on the phone
About their weekend, their homework, their tests.
And that boy Sarah met at the party last night?
Well, he certainly doesn’t sound like the best.
Shut up, walk faster, put down your umbrella,
The whole world doesn’t need to hear you talk.
Look where you’re going, not at your phone,
And please, don’t ride your bike on the sidewalk!
Here’s to the walkers who have made me so bitter
And so angry I thought I might burst.
Each day as I walk, my belief is confirmed
That people are just the worst.
