I’m frequently awakened from tranquility
like a lunar lander disturbing eons of silt
by the sound of a murderous horn
sticking the stillness like a slit throat
erupts a desperate moan caught there
the motorist is a man, made foul
like everything possessed, just ours
a moon, an animal, and empty road
drive your soul shearing chariot
fill the oxygen with your shoulder dust
rob the space of my humanity
how dare I take a slice of asphalt
how dare I be, there, anywhere
upon a bike, upon a trike, upon a uni
how dare I work my heart and lungs
in the foulness of your eunuch smut
your air that cooks a strangled terrain
and your heavy foot leaves light my brain
how dare I sweat for fit, just doing my bit,
to challenge the actuaries, the gamblers
betting that an F150 will quiet my pedals
you swerve into me, fuck, just to see
if I am man enough to stay straight up
you curse me, throw soft drinks to me,
seem to hate me for my dry wick lycra
cut me off and turn blind into my tack
flip me the bird and just call me a turd
I’m the less than — your masculine lesson
to stay off the road you’re born to rape.

∞

Submitted as part of “National/Global Poetry Writing Month” (#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo).

Today’s prompt: Day Nineteen: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a humorous rant. In this poem, you may excoriate to your heart’s content all the things that get on your nerves. Perhaps it’s people who tailgate when driving, or don’t put the caps back on pens after they use them. Or the raccoons who get into your garbage cans.”