BURNING POEM (Tears are great medicine.)

(The following spilled out of my sleep-deprived consciousness.)

What on earth are you doing in there?

I see your car, now.
Well, I can almost see it,
through the flames that have it fully surrounded.
The smell of the burning plastic
fouls my nose.
The heat keeps would-be rescuers at bay.
What on earth are you doing in there?

I remember, now, that day...
we were at a red light, next to each other.
When I held up my seat belt as a friendly reminder,
I was startled to hear you say that you don't use it.
You explained that you feared being trapped by the belt
if you were to crash and the car caught fire.
What on earth are you doing in there?

The light turned green, and you were gone
before I could ask how you planned to survive a crash
without your seat belt.
I went on my way, wondering,
how could I, a stranger, impress you
with the danger you are putting yourself in.
What on earth are you doing in there?

-gridlocksmith

(This poem is based on a true incident. After I wrote it, I cried.
I feel better, now. Tears are great medicine.)