Another Day; Another Traffic

by Fred Aiken

Fifteen days stuck in traffic. Fifteen days into the seventeenth year stuck in traffic.

I’m not sure I know anything outside of these steel and fiberglass containers on round rubber. No one has come to save us.

I think any rescue efforts got stuck in traffic, too.

I keep trying to remember what my wife looked like, but I can’t conjure an image.

But I’m certain that she wouldn’t want me to leave the car.

I wonder if she moved on.