Southbound On The Freeway

A tourist came in from Orbitville, parked in the air, and said: The creatures of this star are made of metal and glass. Through the transparent parts you can see their guts. Their feet are round and roll on diagrams of long measuring tapes, dark with white lines. They have four eyes. The two in back are red. Sometimes you can see a five-eyed one, with a red eye turning on the top of his head. He must be special-- the others respect him and go slow when he passes, winding among them from behind. They all hiss as they glide, like inches, down the marked tapes. Those soft shapes, shadowy inside the hard bodies--are they their guts or their brains? By May Swenson Dunning, S., Lueders, E., Smith, H. (1996). Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle...And Other Modern Verse. NJ: Scott, Foresman and Company, p. 82.