The true man needs
an armored vessel,
heavy woolen gloves
and many pelts;
guns and knives,
blunt tools and bullets,
held in place by holsters
clipped on belts.
I admit to only one such need,
racing storm-soaked streets
at breakneck speed.
If you look outside
and see it’s raining,
know I’m on the road,
out hydroplaning.