There Is Still Hope

Some put on their blinkers. Others do not. Some are listening to the radio, Hopefully something tasty and hot. Some pass on the left, Others pass on the right. I am down the middle, Watching the traffic, oh, so bright. Some are looking at the cell phones, The vivid colors, dancing sweet. They may not make it to loved ones They were so anxious to meet. Some are honking, No one waves. It’s the interstate dance, where all socialization caves. Some try to act like they are polite. They smile or wink. Causing me a fright. The only humanity here should be the occasional blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Tell me what is your plan. Swerving left or right, a difference it makes. I need to know, so I can be ready To stomp on my brakes. I leave seven car-lengths, as is the rule. Then I feel like quite the fool As six cars fill the space ahead, Assuring me in one second I could be dead. The dance goes on, All morning long. I am at my destination, And so glad I was wrong. I thought today might be the day, The morning that I would slide, the last day of play. They did not mangle, maim or kill me today, I do bemoan, However, there is still some hope, as there is the drive home.