That feeling, doddering about like
an old man by the arbitrary whim of establishment,
a veritable rent-a-cop on a segway.
There’s so much more grunt
waiting under my eager foot
yet still there is

far too much time spent to the left,
being safe and courteous,
and playing with the blinkers,
telling people so kindly where you’re off to, whenever
you finally get there.
They’d know if only they paid attention!
At this pace, would a crash even matter?
Wouldn’t this iron cocoon deflect whatever glancing blow might result?

O, but to give this tortured Honda
a proper drive, a curvaceous road
and harsh smack on the throttle
to drive past rules, not be driven by them.