Open road,
Dual-carriage way,
And all the cars
Are equidistant
Driving at the limit
And no faster.

All alone
In the fast lane
As far as I can see.

Single lane
Single file
For half a mile.

Crawling forward
Ever forward
Crawling forward
Slow and slow.

Forcing their enjambment
On my journey
As each long mile
Becomes a trial
At twenty klicks per hour.

The briefest stretch
Of speed again:
Open road
Homeward bound
And then I halt.

Seems some fool
In a Vauxhall
And a track suit
Is driving me to zeugma
And distraction
When I should be driving home.

Badly parked.
And paramedics do
Their dirty work.
My forced patience
Never is
As calm or as benevolent
As when it's volunteered,
And my compassion crumbles
And demands, scowling, to know
Is that life worth saving
If it keeps me from my home?


by Matt