traffic games

When traffic is steady, but moving, there is a game I occasionally play.

I'll study the distance to the car ahead of me, close my eyes, and count.

One, one-thousand. Two, one-thousand. Three, one-thousand. Four, one-thousand.

Five. Six. Seven.

Eight.

I often stop at eight.

But not always.

—

where have all my bad dreams gone
the house without doors
the cracked teeth and empty eyes

where have all my nightmares gone
denser than my waking thoughts
where I wait with anticipation for my
paper-thin demise at the hands
of kind strangers