traffic jam


    the freeway of love –
    that’s what we’ve called it
    since the first week
    we moved here
    and began navigating
    life in our new city

    and we smiled
    when traffic reports
    of snarls and slow
    downs brought back
    memories of route 3
    and real traffic

    four years on
    I wonder if
    anyone has ever
    calculated which car
    moves things from
    a crawl to a halt

    which circumstance —
    the pinhole in
    the upstairs pipe
    the sick schnauzer
    my allergies your
    disappearing dad

    leaves us caught
    once more in the rush
    hour of the heart
    stuck in grief
    minds still racing
    no exit in sight

    but we can sing . . .
    life is a highway
    god bless the broken road
    we’re going riding
    on the freeway of love
    and we can’t look back


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