Silliness

Driving

Ignite and roll back.

Forward progression at a geological rate-
Only riding by so slowly
That it would seem like an
Ant raft drifting through molasses.
The first gear frustration of right lane driving.

Clutch,
Shift.

Moving now at a faster pace,
But not the speed the riders seeks.
The road side is still clear images
Of grass and homes,
Dogs and people.
All cut to precise dog and people
Size,
With hands and paws,
Hair and fur.
Eyes observing, looking in
As we pass by.

Clutch,
Shift.

Third gear is a tease,
With the mild taste of speed-limit reaching,
But not speeding glory.
The over-the-pants-humping slut of this
Four wheeled brothel’s transmission.
She begins to pump the cylinders
Faster, and heat the engine up,
But it does not get bothered for her.

Clutch,
Shift.

Looking out the windows
The shapes begin to blur.
The grass slips into fur,
Paws into hands,
Feet into side walks.

Clutch,
Shift.

Cylinders pumping in a hot engine.
Gas burning away at an alarming rate.
The spooling is heard before the vehicle takes
Its last speed jump.

Turbo.