Terminator, Too

The nature of the vehicle was a Cybertruck
and the heat was just too intense. It burned
as if the sun itself fell down and turned
from star to car, a local god who struck
down and cursed the prayerless: bad luck
and broiling—what they briefly bought, they earned;
what they only thought they knew, they learned
right quick. Each IQ dandy is a schmuck
parading in his fancy test until
his full self-driving jumps a curb and makes
a pyre that’s a punchline; then a cop
watches helpless as a cat on a windowsill
while a little bird alights outside and takes
a gritty bath, sings, sings, and will not stop.