Poetry Month: To a Macho Driver on I-78
Dusk obscures the rain-slick road,
Dead deer and tyres line our path;
I'm trying to get my kids home safe,
So why d'you have to ride my arse?
What satisfaction, what thrill, what joy,
Is worth this risk to all our lives?
Schmucks like you force me to wonder
how the species still survives.
(NB British spellings used, because I'm British. For readers of U.S. English, tyres=tires, arse=ass)



