Ode to a Motorcar Driver

The traffic snarls get nastier;
In an unswerving line I go.
But, perched in the middle of the road
Is an awkwardly big dumbo.

Lights red, engine purring,
It stands, assuming its right of birth,
Seeing a slight cranny to the right,
I duck in, underestimating the girth.

I back out and the stress eases,
Panting back to life, the monster moves.
With slight hesitation,
I resume my search for grooves.

‘Honk! Honk!’ goes the beast in front:
It’s another of my brethren…
The beast repays its debt with interest,
Hence, he and I get even.

The other animals part ways.
Now it’s only me and this oaf.
We go in blow for blow,
And he breaks like a roasted loaf.

Merry and contended, I race ahead,
But another fight is in the offing,
Dazzling my rearview mirror with luminescence;
Another fiend is in mood for some loafing.

Roadways drained, engines thundering,
A wild chase ensues—
Light and swift, I pass through gaps—
The trail goes cold, the thronging resumes.

The paths ahead converge into one.
Beasts pour in from the opposite direction,
High beams, high temper, high decibels—
All in mood for mad dereliction.

“We don’t want the whole path,
Just give us a tiny pass.
Use dipper at night, and…
Get your head out of your ass.”

Love,
A biker.