Traffic on the holidays is deadly, but carefree,
As we rush a couple thou into eternity.
Driving to a picnic or a ball game or the lake,
we will pass a crash without so much as a headshake.
Our minds are on the hotdog and the coming fireworks,
Not upon the injured with their blood and feeble jerks.
The dance of death increases and goes into overdrive
As we speed on down the road, so heedless and alive.
Until that fatal moment when reactions go awry
And we are in the ditch while other motorists whiz by.
Strange, how no one ever thinks of staying put at all,
Unless they are a prisoner behind a thick stone wall.
Talk about your Hitler or your Stalin with a sword –
Seems to me the biggest killer is old Henry Ford.
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