Such smooth traffic
its back and forth through weaving lanes
its easy quiet signaling
Seems like time drifting by without care —
almost other-worldly with feathered feelings
and comforts
That is until
A tiny crack in thoughts breaks through
with dire sneaking in on questions —
How is this pure rolling forward even possible?
What’s the cost of such an untroubled journey?
Doesn’t its lulling hum depend on
rolled up windows and
push button days
And then suddenly in a blink
from the console of comforts
there’s panic
as the daydream swerves to avoid
guardrails
leaving skid marks as the answers
with honking traffic and fists
blurring by