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Click hereI am not stuck in traffic,
the traffic is stuck in me:
in my gut, an obstruction, the thing
people sigh about as they pass,
thankful to be gone, relieved
not to be the cause.
it's visceral. when something's blocking you up inside, an emotional obstruction, it hurts and distends in painful ways others pick up on even whilst not being able to offer any form of relief.
like the ending--the abruptness. It's like go, stop, stop, go, go.
But I don't mean literally. It seems to be about traffic and bowel functions at the same time...Hmmm...This seems to be largely a venting poem and that's cool.
Its hard to think when your pissed but OK
This surely needs a last line. I'm thinking
thankful to be gone, relieved
not to be the cause. All alone
sitting down and stepping
on the gas
but that is taking it too literally,
making it more jokey
And you had a pleasant Christmas week I hope
(apart from this)