Dear motorist who
drove past me, almost scraping my skin.
Do you see the road as a plain sheet
devoid of traffic?
Does a cyclist seem to you a
dot you can shrink further into nothing?
Do you think you cause no
damage when you force me off the road or
drown me with your honking?
Drugged on impatience, you
drive like a maniac, forcing us to
dodge around you.
Deaf, I am not, but soon may be, if you
don’t stop blaring that horn.