Freeway Madness Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I poked my head out of
The automobile as the
Stop light seizes my velocity,
My automobile heaving
Machine-like snarls,
My windows pulled down,
The light of the city
Torridly kissing my skin
The wind was great
And the populace dissipated
Everywhere.

Even things could
Crash and burn at
40 miles per hour
And that is the simple
Truth that is often
Interspersed with or
Mistaken as a triviality;
No matter how fast
I sift through the
Asphalt: a freeway madness,
Still, I am the frantic
Behind the wheel,
The maniac who rages
Without brakes.

The stoplight gleamed green
And I revved my engine:
Such a superb contender
On the road
I was driving at 110 miles per hour
And there is no difference
Between driving at 40 and 110
When you've a crazed man
Behind the wheel.
This is the freeway madness
And some slip out of the trance:
Poor luck, even poorer vindication.

My automobile waned as
The roads are torn into
Different places and the people
Stood either
Baffled or amazed
That is not my conundrum.
Another stoplight came to sight
In a fiery crimson halt
And I sojourned beside another
Driver. He said, "You were killing
It out there, fella. How hapless
Can you be! You could have died
With such speed! "

Like I said,
"That is not my problem."
I rubbed it into his face
That his dashboard almost
Retched at my nonchalance
And dedication to this
Freeway madness.
The green light glimmered
And I sped right past him,
Right past everything
In such a terrorizing speed
That the perturbed thoroughfares
And the rendezvous of the felines
And the bar-drunks and the thieves
Were all disturbed and startled.

I reached home, laughing
At their either amazed or
Exasperated faces -
They could never contain
My madness on the freeway.