One of Several Million People Driving to O’Hare
by George Thomas
Sometimes I cannot handle the abruptness of contrast. There needs to be a larger gray area between my rooster cock-a-doodle-dooing at 5:30am and being honked at by a WASP in a Mercedes 4matic on I-294 at 6:35
…although I know this was good timing considering the construction delays.
I need at least a day’s notice before I have to immerse myself in everyone else’s fray. You can’t drag me out of the boondocks so easily anymore.
My chronic lower back pain disappeared in the therapeutic air of dried husks and manure; it stung me as soon as I craned my neck to read the tall signs and billboards.
Oh hell, Butch, even Joliet is too big anymore.
Too many lights on at night.