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Monday, August 4, 2014

Public transportation

In which we drive on


Just going home. Not really a traffic jam. Just a slowdown around some road work on Covington Road. Couple minutes. Waiting as the cars heading west trail by. Watching. Hey mom in your silver minivan, you’re singing and pounding on the steering wheel; what is your silent song? Black car on her tail, you’re going nowhere and not very fast, but enjoy that illusion while you can. Next guy, we see you  looking down, we know you’re texting. Busted. You’re only fooling yourself. Citizen's arrest. Woman with cell stuck to your ear, keep talking, you look intense, you are mute to me; guy with a dog drooling out the window (dog drooling, not the guy); delivery guy who actually might be paying attention, big truck, skinny road. There you all go, goodbye, mini-rush-hour parade, Fort Wayne version, my turn now. Although I’d hitch a ride with that singing van mom. She looked like fun.

There were so many choices. But who can pass up the free thing?



All over the country, I'm seeing the same / Nobody's winning, at this kind of game / We gotta do better, it's time to begin / You know all the answers / Must come from within

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