Something about speed

The stream of badly moved vehicles
rushes, beeps, and honks;
the sounds under the bridges triple
and die in nearby ponds.

There’s a steady on the air,
the plaintive song of brakes;
it flows into the ears, and isn’t fair -
the desperation it awakes.

The grotesque picture of this vision
attracts the inquiring eye,
and comes to mind: for disposition
the better way for them to fly.

Through gigantic buildings of the town,
the ferroconcrete pyramids,
I hold my head no up, but down
while walking down the streets -

I wanna cross them without losses:
my arms, my legs, my balls -
thus, save them before the night closes
all lights, and silence falls;

I run away from the distant murmur            
of voices in tiding wave,
I see in this the frustrating omen –
man, run swiftly to be save.

Behind, the signs on these damned roads
try crazy traffic put in rules…
but vainly, trucks with overloads
are used them to misuse.

And so, this cavalcade of wakeful drivers
since morning to the dead of night,
fling from departures to arrivals      
by turning left or right.
07.05.2020 г.