Spring Makes Me Happy

This Is Not A Poem

Why
Is it
When
We get
In our cars,
Shut our
Doors, click
Our seat belts,
Start our
Engines, and
Accelerate
Out of our
Driveways,
Parking Lots,
Away from
Our curbs,
Homes, dogs,
Children,
Girlfriends, etc.;
What makes
Us forget
That the
Vehicle in
Front of us
Contains a
Live
Human
Being,
Glaring in
Her mirror
At you
For riding her
Bumper,
Speeding up
To the car
In front of her,
Who may have
A bumper
Sticker
That pisses her
Off, (“Bush/Cheney ‘04″) or
Who may be
Driving 3 MPH
Slower than
She wishes to
Go,
Glaring at her
In the rear view
Mirror,
Riding the ass
Of the SUV
In front of him, “God,
SUV’s are stupid,
Aren’t they?
What stupid idiot
Buys an SUV?
Especially a Lexus.”
And the eyes in the mirror
Glare back
At the sticker-plastered
Jetta
Riding her bumper,
As she speeds up
To the motorcyle
In front of her,
etc.;
Why do we,
Such nice people,
Us,
When we
Sit in the
Driver’s seat,
Flying at deathly
Speeds, right
Next to
Each other,
I mean
Crazy close,
Why do we
Become
Sociopathic
Maniacs?
I know
It’s Friday
And there’s
Christmas
Shopping to
Do and
Beers to
Drink and
Television to
Watch and
Parties to
Attend,
etc.;

I saw you
Noodling
Through
Traffic today,
Cutting in
And out,
Making us all
Brake, so
You wouldn’t
Have to.
I saw you
Looking straight
Ahead,
Chin high
In the air, as
You eeked by
Me, inches from
My bumper,
Up to the Jeep
Just in front
Of me. I saw
Her glare
In her rear view
Mirror,
At you,
Pretending you
Were the only
Car in
Friday traffic.
I recognized you
Just as
You disappeared
In front of
A semi.
I strapped
My fingers down
Across the steering
Wheel, and
Glared at the
Buick behind me,
Riding my bumper.