I am afraid
of cars.

I do not like them.
They scare me.
They give me the creeps,
which is unfortunate ’cause they’re everywhere.

Everyone else seems perfectly comfortable
hurling themselves around in a giant steel monstrosity,
as if the most obvious thing in the world.
It’s not obvious. Not to me.
It doesn’t seem obvious to me at all.
I don’t like it. I don’t want to do it.

Behind the wheel I feel destructive and dangerous.
I don’t like to feel destructive and dangerous.
I like to feel constructive and generous.

But still,

I’m afraid of cars.
What kind of a man does that make me?

Vroom Vroom.
Get out of the way.
Here comes my fucking stereotype.

3 thoughts on “Velociraptor

  1. Reminds me of a little poem I wrote a month ago. I agree with you, seeing and behaving in these monolith metal cars does not seem natural at all. In fact, it’s incredibly threatening.

    “Sea of Metal”
    Let me meet the man who gazes
    upon the sea of metal
    that is the international freeway
    and thinks it natural and beautiful.

    It is not I.

    Liked by 1 person

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