North America Poem by Astrid Hardjana

In the continent of North America
We speed like race cars
In the Indy 500

There is no time to look left
There is no time to look right
Too many turns to make
Too many decisions to make

There are too many people
Too many people to encounter
There are too many worries
Too many people to consider

We speed to the finish
As if it were the meaning of our lives
Though we do not realize
The meaning of our lives is slowly driving in
LAST PLACE