I sit in evening rush-hour traffic 
a flickering street light catches my eye 
its orange glow trembling like my tired hands on this wheel

Honking horns blare in the distance
a young driver’s soundsystem rattles my bones
The thick air traps exhaust 
and I rest my forehead on my fingertips
waiting for the congestion to clear itself
only it can’t and won’t
drivers are too stubborn to let others pass
And I watch myself appear and reappear in the rearview mirror
my inner light synchronizing with the struggling streetlight
waiting for someone miles ahead to make the first move