First Drive to New Job (A Narrative Descriptive Poem)

First Drive to New Job

What’s this with lines flowing

And, yet backed up and the sound of horns blowing.

Time doesn’t stop, no it doesn’t wait

This is the first drive while striving to not be late.

Merging of lanes couple the smell of exhaust

Must be that old four-wheeler, the one with the rust;

Heath hazards on the road should be outlawed

Some drive as if designated lanes are flawed.

It’s not the lane designation

It’s the driver’s use of aggression;

Flipping the bird and not the ones with wings

Preference would be turning up the music to sing.

What’s this with lines flowing

And, yet backed up and the sound of horns blowing.

Time doesn’t stop, no it doesn’t wait

This is the first drive while striving to not be late.

Each has its own space though courtesy would be nice

To use a blinker, some never think twice;

To cut over in front of the one now behind

Each having somewhere to be without wasting time.

Never-ending construction, detours, and such

Road signs and flaggers can be a bit much;

Could there be a single road or an isolated lane

To go down freely without stress or strain.

What’s this with lines flowing

And, yet backed up and the sound of horns blowing.

Time doesn’t stop, no it doesn’t wait

This is the first drive while striving to not be late.

What’s with the big rigs and school buses on the far left

Slowing down the flow …

So, now the lines aren’t flowing

Now even more backed up with more horns blowing.

Time doesn’t stop, no it doesn’t wait

This is the first drive while striving to not be late.

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