Para/Poem Challenge "Open"

Abreast
Derisory
Autolatry
Presage
Auspicious
Denounce

Auspicios occasions
Often seem to be the ones
You just catch a glimpse of in the rearview mirror
While you denounce the bumps
You're currently running over.
There's nothing to presage doom,
But the sense of impending gloom
Spoken of in a derisory way
By people who think pretty reflections
Are always ahead.
Fine for them I guess
Autolatry is enough to keep them abreast
When you flounder,
Unable to look ahead or back,
Stuck on obstructions never clearly seen
But happily cussed out.