Driving peacefully in commute,

I was on the right,

She was on the left.

Her hands on the wheel,

Stuck frantically at  10 and 2,

White knuckles squeezing

Life from plastic.  She is scared,

But I would not harm her.

She goes to a turn lane,

Still stiffly frozen in fear.

A new lady to my left,

She has the cell in one hand,

Having two fingers on the wheel.

The other hand has coffee,

Precariously over her lap.

She looks to a spot on the dash,

Forgetting she is in a machine.

I should praise Ms. 10 and 2,

But I would rather love Ms. Two Fingers.