Chinook Winds

Is it man who moves the mountain or the mountain that moves the man? --anonymous

Ode to That Driver in Japan

Oh, you Driver in Japan.
Life must look small and desperate to you.
Has it come to this
this poem I give to you?

Indeed I think it has
for you seem unconcerned
about the others around you
and common sense we learned.

You are busy and hungry.
Your world is filled with diesel and grime,
but must you pull out your keitai
just then to pass the time?

I've thought like that way too;
that driving is a nussaince
on the way to Jubajoo.
So when you take a short cut,
please check that I'm not walking there too.

A cigarette is dandy
when the road of life gets rocky,
but must you park in the middle of it
right when you can't find any?

Indeed it must seem quite a dime
to stop and buy some tea,
especially when your parking space
is the northbound lane of Honcho Dorii.

A pain is to be had,
when the light turns blue to red,
But many more are waiting
just up the road ahead.

In a country famous for automotive legend
to drive is a favorite past-time.
But must the rules of the road
be so vaguely defined?

This is my Ode to That Driver in Japan
may you find some peace of mind.
In knowing that you will still be late
even if right on time.