sitting behind this white dodge caravan.
between the rain and the burst of the red stop light in front of me,
a reminder of an unscheduled opthalmologist appointment,
I can't see a thing.
I wonder what the driver would think if I pulled my car in front of him,
swerving over from the turn lane,
and speeding through the intersection.
would they curse at the rainwater I sent splashing on to their car?
the liquid connecting with a crash so loud they might flinch.
and when they heard my engine rev,
six cylinders,
0-60 just like that,
would they think me a drunk?
a fool?
an impatient, reckless, mess of a driver?
and would they be wrong, regardless?
but tonight it feels like I've never been more sober,
aware in away that makes my skin itch.
maybe it's the weather, I might wonder, knowing it isn't.
and when the light finally turns green,
after what might've been an eternity or just a few seconds,
and they drive past the scene of the accident,
would they think
"she deserved it".