a morning: 
the freeway's thick stream
stumbles to awkward halts;
trapped cars, motors tensed
slouch forward
in vain a few feet
still practicing moving, 
the constant 
disappointment of 
the bumper ahead. 
we glance into mirrors
adjusting seats, selves,
practicing patience,
creating diversion,
and then 
with nothing more left to do
suddenly startle at the
surprise apparition
of a person
in the car
an arm's length away
as our swarm 
of idle steel shells
begins cautious discovery
of their common content.
Jon Bohrn (1999)


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