The people run this town,
The dusty roads and sweeping jacarandas.
I am a driver, now a passive observer
In the realm of my car, I am removed from the ebb and flow of daily life in this town
Even with the windows down.
We are now outside the jurisdiction of traffic laws
My car is governed by the power of the people walking on these twisted roads
They are judge, jury, and prosecutor
I try to weave between them, terrified of a pedestrian straying suddenly
A few seconds spread thin is all that separates me and a life ruined forever
The man in the shitty corolla in front of me swerves
There’s a generator strapped in the gaping hole of the open trunk
Secured by cords that bear alarming resemblance to shoelaces,
I’m sure it will fall and detonate in the middle of the road.
Sure of a great fiery explosion, consuming the towering trees and roadside shacks
But it doesn’t, and there is no explosion
There’s just us, the people, and the stain of the earth beneath us where the rains eroded the smooth pavement
There is no vehicular manslaughter at my hand, only this town
Governed by the people and their earth.
Literary Musings 