Along This Pike
I bought a car – the best I could –
already used, but pretty good.
Not built for speed, but fast enough;
I don’t go in for fancy stuff.
He bought a car that cost too much:
brand new and with a racing clutch.
An object of obnoxious pride,
he loves to boast about his ride.
He honks the horn. He shakes his head.
His engine revs. His face goes red.
I putt along. I keep my cool,
which aggravates this pompous fool.
It seems to him a foul affront
that he’s behind, while I’m in front.
I smile and think: along this pike,
in traffic jams, we’re all alike.