A Thanksgiving Poem

Twas the night before Thanksgiving
And just like the mail
There were drivers in the fast lane
Going slow as a snail.

With little regard
for their fellow man.
These people were oblivious
As if they were sitting on the can.

Talking on the phone
They forget how to drive
“Why go the speed limit
When I can go 35?”

As their exit approaches
They cross all four lanes
Not even a signal
Or a thought in their brains

I swerve to avoid them
Driving on only 2 tires
I shout at the top of my lungs
“May you die in a very large fire”.

Have a Fun and Safe Thanksgiving Everyone!