UNSINGABLE

Why does no one write poems
about traffic? Is the subject

too prosaic, too boring, unworthy
of artistic expression? Or is it

(as I suspect) because the dread
that inhabits us on the highway

encased as we are in
wheeled boxes of steel and

glass trying to keep ourselves
inured to the possibility of being

hurled into oblivion by the semis
on I-81 is too frightening to

comtemplate even by the most
daring of soul searchers?