Push Of A Button Poem by Ima Ryma

Call it the dance of sidewalk blues.
It seems to me more times than not,
Approaching bodies bear bad news,
In that they are a whippy lot.
There are ones with forward feet,
But, with a backward glancing head;
Or those I have such luck to meet,
Who'd rather read than heed instead.
Or those who have to walk and swing,
And I must weave through gauntlets spun.
Dodging spitters is challenging.
At times they all are wrapped in one.

I need a live remote because -
Then, I could make those bodies pause.