Reflections on driving in the North Shore and Rodney districts

Good keen men with baseball caps and sneers clench their steering wheels,
desperate for passing lanes,
which are never long enough.
Young women tie their bleached hair into ponytails and hide their cold eyes behind sunglasses as they speed down the motorway.
Older women wearing sleeveless polar fleece vests and chook haircuts tailgate in their 4WDs,
smugly surveying the masses from their vehicular castles.
People wage war on their way to get their Brazilian waxes
and order their espressos
and visit graves.
The rage bubbles in the people as their pubic hair is torn out
and their drinks are drunk
and their flowers rest on stone.
Resentment is written on their personalised plates and rammed home by their bullbars.
They can’t escape their own fury,
no matter how far or fast they drive.