i went downtown and stood at the corner of an intersection,
but rather than preaching and yelling,
i watched as the drivers went by,
trying to imagine their lives, their hopes and desires,
right as a truck flew by and caused a 10
car pile up right before my eyes, as they say
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.
Fred Aiken Writing 