Behind the traffic of thought
the type that creates
tracks along desire lines
tires screech in frustration
that got me
nowhere close to discovery
i began realize there is a presence
within the whisper
of the windshield wipers
buzzing in inefficiency-
reminding me
that it doesn't matter if i'm
stuck behind a line of slow cars
honking in patterns of unrest
the rain will always wipe away
to reveal a bit of clarity
in my direction
and though it is only feet- inches?
there is movement.
and every time we're on the road
together
there is company.
and as long there isn't any red
or blue lights flashing nearby,
we can try to smile and enjoy the ride.