The roads may be pockmarked
But most drive like Monza.
Accelerate, break
Take the racing line
Overtake, accelerate some more.
In their hearts all men here are Felipe Massa.
Except the old drivers in their rustic three-wheeled bees that buzz through the back lanes.
Always ensuring they stay
In the middle
And when navigating a roundabout cause others to pray
‘Not my way. Not my way. Not my way.’
