Merge onto the freeway
car after car moving ahead and behind
now part of the flow of metal and glass
a rhythm of red lights and honking horns
imperfectly formed lines of silver and grey
like a discarded necklace at a garage sale.
The drone of the motor always heard under
the sound of favorite music, even hard metal
doesn’t mask the sound. Forget about
a foreign language, or listening to books
on tapes for the best seller's New York list.
Feel like heading in the wrong direction
the other side seems to be moving more quickly
too much time to be sitting so cramped
everything in slow motion, almost
a bad dream silhouettes and faces
of other commuters, like vague creatures
added to give substance to a nightmare
filling lanes in tandem, moving
in and out weaving through traffic
until the exit home is up ahead
pull off until it is time to start again.