On Driving (Poem)

Driving punishes the individual
Driving rewards the conformist
Creative drivers attempt to redefine boundaries
And are frowned upon for not staying in their lane

Impulsive drivers leave a trail of brake lights
In their erratic wakes, a ripple spreads through traffic
Cell phones ring and they must be answered
Right this very moment, because they must!

Drivers slow to pay their respects to fallen comrades
Then speed off when the road opens up again, and forget:
It’s life or death when you hop into a car
Skill is only part of the equation for survival

Yet those that fear flying would just as easily drive inebriated
Is it willful ignorance of statistics?
Or does the wheel in our hands provide the illusion
Of control that we don’t have?

Control that we crave
When we yield the right of way, unnecessarily
When we stop at an unmarked crosswalk
And allow a single pedestrian to disrupt the flow