behind me
wants me to pull
over to the side of the road
so that he
can pass.
but there's no room,
and my street
is approaching, if i get
out of this lane
i'll miss my turn.
he blows his horn,
flashes his lights.
i look in the mirror
at the anger on his face,
the hand gestures.
his fist pumping
in my direction.
he's inches from killing
us all.
his window is rolled
down and i hear
his curses.
there's a baby seat
beside him.
a new pink baby, half
asleep.
the future is not what
it used to be.
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