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January |
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a poem by Mel Brake
Dirty Driving
Driving a motor car
In heavy traffic
Is a lot like
Engaging in dirty sex
With an audience
As someone
Cuts you off
The words
"Filthy bitch"
Are appropriate
Involving
Heavy breathing
As your nerves
Heighten
And the heart
Beats faster
And faster
And faster
Your grip
On
The wheel
Tightens
And fucking
Up the other
Driver
Seems
The irrational
Response
You shout
Out loud
"You fucking
Prick!"
And now
Comes the
Veritable
Meeting of the
Eyes
Tension builds
As your
Cars stand
Bumper to bumper
A dirty look
And a deep breath
Are exchanged
And the both of you
Drive away
Feeling a sense
Of euphoric relief
In heavy traffic
Is a lot like
Engaging in dirty sex
With an audience
Cuts you off
"Filthy bitch"
Are appropriate
Heavy breathing
As your nerves
Heighten
Beats faster
And faster
And faster
On
The wheel
Tightens
And fucking
Up the other
Driver
The irrational
Response
Out loud
"You fucking
Prick!"
Comes the
Veritable
Meeting of the
Eyes
As your
Cars stand
Bumper to bumper
And a deep breath
Are exchanged
Drive away
Feeling a sense
Of euphoric relief