They used phrases like "going off the rails"
and "blowing a fuse."
I was sure I had this till the moment
we needed to exit the highway
onto a crossword puzzle of roads
otherwise known as Newark.
But I didn't. In seconds I panicked
tried to backtrack, and then
the worst: halted amid angry noises
like locked Ram horns. Foreshadowing
at this point: mass screaming over
K-pop idols. Laughter exploded from
behind with my every wail of confusion.
Evening sun blasting into my eyes
sunglasses fallen somewhere out of reach
after my "blown fuse." That's all it takes:
one missed exit. Close to losing all sanity
over being herded like 4-wheeled cows
and the travel navigation lady redirecting me
in that stoic, unsympathetic voice.
But like a god appearing, or a genie just out of the bottle
I was parking the car, the erected Prudential Center
standing there as a beacon of hope, of success
in plain sight, and just like that I'm back on the rails.
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