We were a phalanx of automobile soldiers, encased in our two-ton death machines of sonata silvers, mustang reds, a throng of strangers brought together at that intersection of our common life paths, all converged into one meticulous formation, military precision, for those few seconds on 29 North this afternoon. We're all in this togetherrr -- against our common enemy: the unexpected onslaught of grey Saturday rainclouds, pelting our windshields with deadly multiplicity in our humble commute homeward. Homeward-bound. Rainward-bent. Leaning determinedly into the precipitation that would've been fluffy death, just a week ago. All together now. We'll make it out of this mess.
Until the black Camaro cuts me off/
and the spell is broken. The roadrage urges bubble, boil, just beneath/
all that camaraderie-schmaraderie.
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