It sounds like the poem "Southbound on the Freeway" by May Swenson. I remember reading this poem in high school in the early 90's.

Here's the text of the poem:

May Swenson - 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--or long

measuring tapes--dark  with white lines.

They have four eyes. The two in the back are red.

Sometimes you can see a 5-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?

It sounds like the poem "Southbound on the Freeway" by May Swenson. I remember reading this poem in high school in the early 90's.

Here's the text of the poem:

May Swenson - 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--or long

measuring tapes--dark
with white lines.

They have four eyes.
The two in the back are red.

Sometimes you can see a 5-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?