New York Minute

I knew it instantly; the light had turned.
The driver in the car behind, concerned
leaned on his horn, as if he thought me sleeping.
I don't drive fast, it's true: some call it creeping.
I'm not a speed freak, that's all. I've not earned

disapprobation on this scale. I've learned
to take it easy, given up (or spurned)
commuter rat race. When I heard the beeping
I knew it instantly—

he was the type who usually returned
from drives with each last shred of patience burned,
nerves in a tangle and blood pressure leaping.
Unhealthy fellow: does he know he's keeping
time on clocks in courts that have adjourned?
I knew it instantly.


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