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.