78 MPH
Hollywood Fwy 170
January 1, 2013
Cars pass by,
They whirl all around me.
Now that I have set the scene,
Come along for the ride.
A white, elderly, bald man lags next to me,
Dry cleaning hanging on the little bars in the back seat that as a little girl,
I used to dangle or attempt a pushup on.
A blonde girl around seventeen sits up at the edge of her seat; riding passenger.
Her spine is straight as a board.
She's pretty, but wears a skirt too tight for a date.
No doubt she is dressed to impress the boy driving his mom's Toyota truck.
An Asian couple drifts in and out of my blind spot in a red Subaru.
I find this couple opposites of the young boy and girl.
The man wears a tie and the woman rests her head in her hands in a deep sleep.
These two are comfortable with each other.
A minivan cruses comfortably in front of me.
It's a family.
I take my eyes off them to admire the shinny new cars in the Volvo of Calabasas.
I pat the dash of my old car.
She's old, yes.
But we are making good time.
The family looks like it consists of a little boy, no older than three,
And an older sister wrapped up in a blanket.
Her mouth is open and drooling like a freshly caught
Fish.
The younger of the two sisters sits in the front seat writing and listening to her iPod.
The dad is very hispanic,
Mom appears to be pregnant again while she sits in the backseat,
Tending to a fussy little girl no older than
A year.
I continue to drive along this freeway,
And I can't help but think that I will never see,
Any of these people again.
In my life.
The three year old presses his hand up against the car window and smiles at me.
I enjoy acknowledging others,
Because even if they think no one cares,
I did.
My eyes scan the roads again.
I take in everything around me in a matter of seconds.
I can't help but wonder if these people around me have analyzed me the same way when,
(I
Wasn't
Looking.)
Everyone around me seems pleasantly content in there own shell of protection.
I almost wish I could reach out and touch their cars,
As if just by doing that,
I could be accepted into their lives.
The car to the side of me takes the next off ramp.
It seems stupid to say but,
I was a little emotionally attached.
Saddened.
But then I realize,
We are not connected.
All these people want of me is to continue west to their:
Homes,
Dinners,
Dates,
Families,
and parties.
We are all so unconnected...
Until I hear a:
.
.
.
Smash.
.
.
.
A skid.
.
.
.
.
And a scream escape my lips.
We are all so unconnected until a sudden crash,
Brings us all together.
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