You stare out of the window.
The image blurs and sharpens
Your distant thoughts,
Colliding into each other like miniature car crashes
Your ears are ringing,
Soft thuds accompanied by the light sprinkling of glass
Your gaze stretches as the cars pile up,
The blaring honking intensifying, all-consuming
You want to focus,
But the tow trucks are nowhere to be found
You feel responsible, yet hopeless,
As the drivers begin to exit their cars and yell
You want to hide, maybe cry,
Maybe pound your steering wheel for leaving you here.
And yet here you are,
In the car, surrounded by the mess of your own making.
You snap out of it,
Your head still swirling as you reach for the water.
another hour of roadsickness.