Getting Ahead of Time

I tried to get ahead of Time,
   hoping to catch my plane
while Time zipped, hooting, ahead of me
   as if it had a brain.

Time sneered and veered without a license,
   slicing through wind and rain.
I sped like a bionic cheetah,
   but Time was a hurricane.

It didn’t have to tackle the hills
   and the holes in the terrain.
(This dirt road was the only route,
   a single pitted lane.)

My clunker clunked across the gravel,
   Time winged like a whooping crane,
and the competition toward the finish
   was heady as pink champagne.

I made it to the airport, though
   security was insane,
the line appearing to stretch its fingers
   from Bangor, Maine to Spain.

Time, having neither duds nor luggage,
   akin to legerdemain,
slipped past the queue, security,
   the gate, to board the plane,

while I stood loitering like some mutt,
   chihuahua or Great Dane.
And so I strolled across the road
   and caught a tranquil train.

(Appeared in Lighten Up Online.)