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.
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