Rant Poem

The 103
Too early in the morning

driving on my way to work.

The car is freezing cold

and I’m gonna go beserk.

 

The coffee’s getting cold

in my travel thermos mug.

My shoulders shrug my ears

to give a big bear hug.

 

I coast along the ramp

to join the 103.

Check my shoulder view,

it’s clear I do decree!

 

But wait, what’s that?

How did it suddenly appear?

I swear I checked to make sure

that nothing would interfere!

 

Why won’t that snake just move on over,

and let me on my way?

There’s two lanes for goodness sake!

I need some space and pray.

 

I squeeze on in to where I feel

that I should really be.

The wipers on to avoid the spray

and snowy ice debris.

 

The radio tuned to CBC;

they say the roads are clear.

I should make it to work on time

and shift into fifth gear.

 

Now what’s up? Come on! I say.

Don’t pass me and cut in!

You spray that stuff upon my view

and I feel like a bowling pin.

 

Something’s going to knock me down.

They’re going to skid on past.

I’m tired of all these lunatics

who drive along too fast.

                                          

Why can’t I drive to work,

in peace and harmony.

I need a bubble around my car

to feel safe in the highest degree.

 

So if you see my license plate

along the 103,

Steer clear I beg and don’t debate,

it’s really not the grand prix!