Cardial Freeway

Worn tires slide across

the asphalt, lights flicker.

Straight-ahead, my gaze remains fixed

On your left-hand mirror,

white sunglasses reflect into

my being; moving around you now,

I know my over-sized,

red sunglasses will, too,

catch your eye.

Too many times, my

brakes have faced scorching heat.

Dark burning envelops the air.

Always such short notice.

If any at all. Yet

your Honda Fit and your bumper

stickers that call into the

void for coexistence are answered

by me, are mirrored in your

flashing turn signals –

a predetermined path I know

how to navigate.

Together, we move.

Tires rotate at the same speed; we

over the same distance. Your

honest red glares in my eyes.

Squint, ease, press.

I stop.

License plate caresses

my dashboard.

The distance we maintain,

flashing signals to keep us from a

crash.

Signaling left, right.

The other moves accordingly and

we vibrate

on the same wavelength

down the road, one lovingly

following the other.