Friday, December 6, 2013

ODE TO THE RASH DRIVER


Why, oh why, my fellow being, thou drive like that?
Swiveling, speeding and circling like a child-like cat,
Bustling with traffic are these unsteady city roads,
Yet you drive so lovely, I’d doff my hat.

You choose your directions like you’re here to impress,
If you ever cut us off, thank lord, we’re blessed,
The indicators are for mere earthlings like us,
You don’t need them, do you? Such is the finesse

You serve this world with your majestic horn,
The sleeping are awakened and the dead reborn,
The lights have just turned green, my love,
And you wield symphonies behind me, art thou that forlorn?

Do you see a bold white dashed-line?
Does that look like a beautiful design?
You seem to have an eye for detail, oh, the Vinci, you
Why otherwise, like us, in one lane, would you be confined?

Were you laughing somewhere when the traffic rules were made?
Driving like you were in a car parade?
Pulling off stunts we dare not imagine,
You, for one, are a legend of the finest grade.

Driving, for you, might all just be a silly game,
And driving rash might be your claim to fame,
You may think you’re the king of the road, you fool,
But do know this, sarcasm is my middle name!

Peace. . .