Four barrel carbs and tires the size of small cities.
Body caked in mud from a weekend of play.
Old Glory waving above the pick-up bed.

Is the driver of this monstrosity
really this patriotic and proud?
Or is it overcompensation?
Perhaps he's not so well endowed.


Cherry red hot rod weaves in and out of lanes.
Not a single flicker of a directional light.
Every push of the accelerator causes an earth shaking roar
of the behemoth engine.

A crimson blur of attitude and noise
Must be couple idiot
renegade high school boys.


Plodding along in my '01 Jetta.
Flecks of rust blowing off its frame.
Blaring U2 from my cassette deck
to cover the sound of a steering wheel
that rattles and hums as it approaches 70.
I congratulate myself for my pretense of modesty
proud that I'm not an arrogant jerk like them.

The morons passing without a glance
don't care to notice me
I smile sagely to myself
Smug with false humility.