Staring at the opaque brake lights of an angry Honda that sits behind a line of drones weary from combat A kind woman waves me on I turned left to find another succession of bumpers and anxiety They start to move. Thank god I hit the gas and the red beacons reply I hit the brakes my lunch rolls onto the floor Horns honk An apathetic truck blocks the route I stomp the brakes My lunch is somewhere under the seat I open the door…Continue Reading “The Journey”