traffic

i doubted that the owner of the sleek steel grey car had any idea of the beauty he was providing me (despite his speeding up rather than letting a small red jetta merge). as his car moved slowly forward, the dashes of white lines that separate the lanes on the freeway reflected on the back bumper, each one taking its turn traveling upwards in a curving path before disappearing. it appeared a river flowing steadily along, one white line after another, alternating: left, right, left, right. and it seemed to calm the heat that penetrated my car and made me feel claustrophobic and alone.