Death on our Roads

[Brownlie]

For cyclists on our roads, the threat of death is all-too real:
people make it all the time.
Like how we ask for it without a helmet and
when the clown says how the surgeons call us “donors.”

One 3am, this cop pursued me through three reds
on empty City streets I know like lanes:
He said, this late, a drunk would run me down
if I got by with just my eyes and ears.

Another one, last midnight, shouted: “halt!”
as I tried nosing round a long, stopped truck
of steel bound for Molloch’s next erection.
“A bit of common sense” he said
“...or you'll go under it.”
“Like that?” I snapped, “comply or die?”

Freud said, “Every fear contains a wish.”
And so the cabbie raging at my U-turn tighter
than his cab’s must win some prize for
being actualised:
“I hope you die!"

I would provide more setting and more concrete description in general.