If 20 is the max
(According to the plaques)
Why does the man behind
His molars start to grind?

If I’m not doing 30
He shouts things rather dirty
His manners he’s forgetting;
It’s needlessly upsetting

The sign insists it’s 20
He’s choking on his venti
And urging me on faster;
We’re heading for disaster

I let him overtake.
That night I lie awake
And ruminate on speed;
Insomnia, indeed.