speed up and stop

staring off through the windshield
at all the other drivers,
casually reserved to fate,
heading home
on a twenty minute
drive that will
take you over an hour
to accomplish.

the engine's hot,
and the steering wheel
is sticky
with an accumulation
of years worth of
congestion.

to your left and right
they wait until the last second
to merge,
trying so hard to get
a couple of car lengths ahead.

they're on cell phones,
playing with the radio,
attending to the children,
reading the day's news like
a fashion statement
to the damned.

someone is overheating
and you can smell the sweet
burn,
two lanes over.

the slow lane is
moving faster
than any other.

construction everywhere,
and there is no place
to turn out if something
goes wrong.

you're paying as much for your
car
as you once paid for rent
and there's no guarantee
you'll get home
without the engine light
coming on
like a fatal gunshot
to the wallet.

it's three in the afternoon
and you're wondering where
the hell
everyone is going.

both directions
are jammed up tighter
than the muscles
at the back of your neck.

hope is fleeting.

it suddenly starts to move.
10 mph ...
15 mph ...
5 mph.

you're back in it all over again
and someone just cut you off
and flipped the bird through
the rear window
and you want to hit
the accelerator and
slam the hunk of
foreign made steel up their ...

and then you see your
exit
in the distance.
maybe a mile,
mile and a half.

it'll take the better part of an hour,
but you'll be home,
free and clear.

you gun it over the white line
and take the off ramp
with reckless abandon,
get caught at the light,
wait your turn,
wait for the asshole
ahead of you to get off
their phone,
slam the stick into the
next gear,
shuffle to the next light,
and wait.

more construction.

brake lights for as far
as the eye can see
and there's no looking back.

not now.