There are passengers,
And there are drivers.

Driving is overrated.
It’s all about control:
A race against time,
Where the objective
Is to beat the other car
Down the road.
Safety first?
Not unless it runs
A faster engine.

There’s no time to
Look at the scenery;
The next checkpoint is
Only a stop sign or
Traffic light away,
And the pedestrians
Carry bonus points.

Being a passenger
Lets you view the scenery…
If you can stand the blur of
Houses and trees whizzing by.

It’s a victory if
You can look out the window
Without getting motion sick
From the constant weave of
The cars you’re passing by,
The leaps into warp speed
Through “pink” lights,
Or the sudden stops brought on
When a driver loses the light and
Jams on the brakes
While his leg turns to jelly
In the effort to avoid being toast
From a crash.

There are passengers,
And there are drivers,
But I’d rather be on the porch
With friends to enjoy the scenery with.

Life should be savored, not gulped.

© 2006 by Robert E. Blackwell