Traffic Jam

On a road, a freeway,
behind billions of cars, trucks, vans,
a great wall of dormant behemoths,
conspirators against my life,
brutes holding me ransom
until the sun flies away
beyond the horizon, the gate
between life and death. I remain
packed with the latter,
doomed to suffer another hour.
Oldies, classic rock, whatever
shit the pop station plays.
Another defeat. The shower head wins
another night with my wife.

Critique

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