Death on a Motorway

"Come to lunch" she said
"Great" we said
But the blinking, winking
lights, linking in the distance
told a tail.
Routes retraced
on lanes, that laced
the countryside.
We raced to beat
the grinding halt
and gridlock;
to no avail.
Beating air
pulsed radio rhythm
and fought for breath
as stirred sonar
signalled those that wait;
our whereabouts.
"Don't know..............
..............can't tell...
....you might as well"
Look. Hands free
while stationery
is opened,
assignations closed.
Restraint and resignation
exchange
between paned glance.
Lunch was late that day;
some unsuspecting souls
reached their destination
before us.