One of many

I am but one of many stuck on the road, following the
Mango-coloured markings of the cheap digital display.
At seven o'clock in the morning,

The highway becomes peaceful
From high above, probably a lot quieter, too.
My options are limited to here and now: I could turn up

The radio and drown out the noise with noise; ignore
The animation of the world; or learn to allot attention
For a good window view,

Where it means well and ends well. Enjoy the road,
Whatever that means. What's the hurry? I am not that
Anxious to get to places anymore,

Not even hungry anymore. I have inherited, you see,
An explosion of metal and speed
Tucked under the hood some twelve years ago,

And I get so mad driving to work in the morning
Blue like a pool of water—forever efficient, as I
Laze over the far mountains to another city.

Dale Chou
2013-05-17