As I lay on my horn,

My patience becomes worn.

I honk again, at the traffic congestion.

This time it’s not a suggestion.

The motorcyclist, in front of me, just flips me off.

I just narrow my eyes and, under my breath, call him a jerk-off.

Then checking the time on my smartphone,

“I’m late for work,” I groan.

I shouldn’t be worried; though,

My phone then dies so, calling work now is a no-go.

So, now all I can do is sit here in this traffic jam.

Damn.