traffic

My girl, the artist, wrote this a few years back. We found it going through random floppies last night. I think it deserves more of an audience than that.

traffic stops when traffic starts. all the cars are interlinked to each other, sensing each others moves and zigging and zagging accordingly. until one gets pompous and thinks it should go first, first before everyone. or thinks that they will move out of his way and then in an instant glass and scraps of metal lay on the road scattered like broken bones while the rest of the traffic creeps by in awe at the failure in their sweet system. in the distance, there are wails and whoops of approaching authorities on their way to pick up, reassemble, and reprimand the aggressive one. we are cars. careless in our actions and confident in our immortality. we can last forever...forever is such a short time. we are not steel reinforced, we do not have roll bars or shatter proof windshields. we can not see in the dark. and we control ourselves, sometimes just as foolishly as we control our vehicles. as foolishly as we try to control each other. we are monsters of the dark ages. our horses are shinier and less fleshy, but our egos are just as solid and unweilding. if only we would learn to respect the signs of our times, stop, yield, slow. then perhaps we would learn to respect ourselves. and we could see all the danger and all the possibility in the simple word: go.