Driving in my car
Driving in my car. My thoughts are skittish as the traffic glugs along the motorway. Noise of the road, babble of the radio. Chatter chatter chatter. This conversation, that email I need to send, the jobs I have to do before New York. The tooting of horns as an impetuous driver weaves aggressively across the lanes. Foot on the clutch, accelerate and break, change gear. Slow down, brake, accelerate, up a gear. Break, stop, first gear. All in irregular sequence.
And then I look across through the windows of the cars at the people I pass. None smiling. All scowling. Some speaking on their mobiles. One woman in a car (so battered) obviously arguing with her husband, gesticulating, face contorted and full of hate, oblivious to my intrusive gaze. A river of painted metal and sullen humanity moves uphill past junction 17.
My thoughts change to home. Work. What I must do tonight. Over the weekend. And I know that Alfred will be at home, waiting for me. Waiting to hold me in his loving arms.
Pizza and champagne. I'll fall asleep, exhausted, woozy and comfortable. Far too early.
I know what's coming. Don't knock it. Life could be much worse.
Posted by nathan at April 11, 2003 06:25 PM
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