Waiting for a Green Light
It's like someone dropped a jar of red glitter. The sparkling tail lights of lines of cars shimmer off the still-wet pavement. And I close my eyes for a moment while I wait, and then I have to mentally convince myself to open them again. My music is the same and my day will be the same and my daydreams are the same. I've determined that I've run out of daydreams; things...people...events...to look forward to. The desires that fuel my stories have dissolved. And it elicits a sense of frustration; like when you've mixed a special color and have painted an area and have just one little bit left to paint but you're out. And you wonder if you can ever re-create that color. My car has a sheen of morning dew on it, and beneath the sticky wet there is a layer of greenish yellow pollen. This is what I focus on at the next red light. I look over at my passenger seat. I mentally chastise myself for spilling coffee in the car earlier in the week and wonder when I'll be ...