Driving in the rush hour is no fun
In the misty mornings, the school run
Means endless queues each traffic light
Impatient drivers turning right
Into main roads choc-à-bloc
Up to crossroads in gridlock.
The whole world and his wife it seems
Are at the wheel in exhaust streams.
For once I had to join the fray
My car needs servicing today
Better to be safe than sorry;
I find myself behind a lorry
That starts and stops with screech of brakes
And high-sided, all my vision takes.
To entertain us as we pass
Warning signs – don't go too fast!
But flashing lights and traffic cones
And the massive use of mobile phones
Mean that commuters have to slow
It's a daily trial they've come to know.
While I who rarely make this trip
Watch fellow drivers as they sit
Locked in their world behind the wheel
And wonder what they really feel.
Public transport does its best
But it's full to bursting, I protest
The Metro works well into town
But rare are those who can sit down.
For outlying districts, there's the tram
Or buses which come when they can.
Either way you have to queue:
Waiting is what Belgians do!
(c) Poet in the woods 2014