The woman drives around the corner
Her hands gesticulating wildly
Fingers point and wave furiously
As she makes several salient points
To her invisible passenger
That or she must be on bluetooth
In using her hands so pointedly
She’s unaware of the irony
Of going hands-free in the first place
With all of her unseen grand gestures
Underscoring invisible points
To an unexpected audience
Either that or her unseen children
Are lurking hidden in the back seats
Although I prefer the first theory
As they’d be transparent and naked
How would an invisible person
Manage to get to work otherwise?
The woman in my rear-view mirror
Talks animatedly at her dashboard
Mouth flapping silently endlessly
Discussing the day’s new outrages
To an invisible listener
Furiously safe in her steel box
The man in the white van hurtles along
Heads in the opposite direction
So blatantly chatting and laughing
A hand-held phone clamped to his ear
The rest of the world invisible
As he speeds along the busy high street
Why would anyone choose to do this?
Especially when tonking along
At over thirty miles an hour
At the busiest time of the day
Oblivious to any dangers
The worst of which is simply himself
My grandfather did once advise me
That a should never ever forget
That a car is a lethal weapon
It’s the only piece of advice
From an otherwise forgettable life
That I can remember him giving
They were wise words nevertheless
After all, if I could have a near miss
With no music, no radio, no chat
On a bright clear summer’s afternoon
In my apparently invisible car
What hope do any pedestrians have?
Martin
A W Holmes, October 2016
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