Impromptu Poetry: You Sir Are Dangerous

You sir, are dangerous.

You are the pretty amber glow of a scalding hot stove top begging to be touched.

The desire to swim after eating.

A half-full box of Cracker Jacks, hurled over the fence despite warning signs advising not to feed the animals.

You are the urge to walk under ladders and step on every sidewalk crack on the way home, mother’s back be damned.

You are desert before dinner.

You are a violated curfew worth getting an epic ass whuppin for.

You sir, are dangerous.

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