I WILL BE KIND

I will be kind to bilious men
for whom the boulevard
is just a tarry smear of gloom.
I’ll give them room, and if one’s bent
on leading our whole line of cars
away, across, around, ahead,
I’ll nod him on as well,

for I’ve had my own illnesses
and, to tell the truth,
have yet to find a final cure
for aches and gripes and tics,
yet those in front and those behind me,
those on either side,
have not leaned too hard on their horns,
have kept their fingers in their fists
when the road shone black as it unwrapped
its awful gift to us.