By Susan Barduca
Workshop Collection – Poetry
Roundabouts
Three circles of death at Lee Road and U.S. 23.,
no one has a clue, except maybe me.
The construction occurred almost ten years ago,
people still do not know which way to go.
I look at their faces, as I pass them by,
I see the fear and panic, fill into their eyes.
They think to themselves, should I go now or wait?
I’m thinking hurry up, I’m late for a date.
They are easy to identify, the seasoned and new,
I wish they would figure out, how to get through.
Winter creates havoc on already scary terrain,
Using four letter words, I must refrain.
It’s my turn now and I’m easing in.
Then “new guy” decides to go for a spin.
You’re in the left lane, but you’re turning right.
I will stand my ground and not give up the fight.
The turn signals now, seems only optional in cars.
half of these people should go live on Mars.
He cuts me off and goes on his way,
thank you, asshole, have a nice day.
I get through one and celebrate life,
why must there be so much unnecessary strife?
Well, shoot, there’s more, possibly two,
I really wish people would get a clue.
Let’s do this again, I silently say,
only have to get through and face a new day.
At least twice a day and sometimes more,
I drive these circles and hold on to the door.
It makes me feel safer, though maybe I should pray
before someone decides to go the wrong way.
There’s on ramps and off ramps to navigate, too,
it turns my mood from happy to blue.
The next asshole comes charging through,
he must be so much better than you.
Except no, he’s not, he has no idea,
he goes in the wrong lane and I say, “See ya.”
You see him go around and around again,
Reminds me of that movie with Parliament and Big Ben.
He shouts out the window and then gives the finger,
I brush it off and don’t let it linger.
It wasn’t my fault, what can I say?
I really want to ruin the rest of your day.
Teenagers driving through on their phones,
looking scared to death but not letting it go.
It would be great to show everyone how,
first, move out of the way for the snow plow.
Merge to the left, I know it’s something new
this is only practiced by a select few.
To the lady with five kids in the blue mini van,
get off the phone, really, you can.
To the little old lady, you can go 35,
you still have your license, are you even alive?
Old people, young people, everything in between,
I consider myself the roundabout queen.
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