Headlights, LED's, burning bright Into my retinas, reflected in rear view And side mirrors, a radiator grill just Visible, almost the outline of a person Behind the wheel, androgynous ghost, Mad Max or just mad, determined To drive to wherever, faster than Anyone else, cocooned in black leather Heads up display laid out across sweeping Digital dashboard, vying to pass me; But what of the queue plainly ahead Stretching to far horizon, vanishing point,
Perhaps it is supernatural, absorbing traffic Clearing the way by passing through it, An alien craft with technology far Advanced from our slow turning wheels Selfishly driving alone in our home from Home interiors, gathering subjects For an out of this world experience Or maybe a time machine Like Back to the Future powered by flux Capacitor, it will disappear and turn up Ahead of all of us, or maybe my imagination Has run riot and it's just another impatient Idiot.