Pothole Jolt

The coffee was hot, the morning grey,

a drone of tires on the street.

Then a sudden, brutal, hard-fought sway,

a jolt that went right through my seat.

The tire dropped, a sickening thud,

metal groaned, a bitter taste.

Coffee splashed, a sudden flood,

a moment utterly laid to waste.

Just a hole, a broken space,

where asphalt buckled, gave it in.

Left a crater, without grace,

where the road decided not to win.

And I, still shaking, grip the wheel,

that bitter drop still on my tongue.

The damage done, the way things feel,

when something cracks, too deeply stung.