Shall I Compare Thee

Shall I compare thee to a summer drive in traffic, packed beyond capacity? Or to a freeway snarl, an angry hive, bothered and hot, as far as eyes can see? Or to a wreck with gawkers slowing down, and not one that is even on their side? Or when, at last, you drive up, what the heck, and it appears that everybody lied? Or detours off the road and back again through horrid little towns where none dare tread, at least those still possessed of working brains, not shuffling in the heat like the undead. Nay, best not liken such a drive to thee; I’d lock the car, dear, throw away the key.