We can all relate to traffic being a rat race. I have always dreaded big city interstates.
One wrong move and you are stuck there for hours. And that’s if you are lucky.
Something about this write makes me wonder if my boys ever studied me in traffic when they were younger.
I enjoyed the read.

Brilliantly penned, Thomas. Excellent write, you’re such a natural storyteller and are able with your amazing imagery to make me feel like I’m watching from the backseat my friend. A great read brother, nicely done. Appreciate you.

Damian

That silent observation of internal conversations is such a profound moment. Terrified in the backseat…I often feel that way about life these days. I have a friend whose grandmother used to drive us around in the backseat of her old green paneled station wagon, having full conversations in her head. But her half was audible. We never knew when she was addressing us or them. Took me back to those rides with this.

This took me back a good few years .. or yonks as we say this side of the pond .. thanks for the ride Thomas .. Neville

I couldn’t help but think of an old neighbor I had when I was young. He would drive me and his son and daughter to school up the street. Thank God it wasn’t far. He would talk as though we weren’t there and every once in a while hit the brake when someone pulled up to the corner of a street waiting to pull out. I couldn’t wait to get out. 🙂 Great story, Thomas.

Thanks. I appreciate it.

What a grand and deeply emotional memory of your Dad at the wheel with all his inner angst haunting him while you his passengers held on for dear life. Truly a great ride of a freeway poem that made for an exhilarating read. Enjoyed this journey through time and the highway. You painted an exquisite portrait of your Dad here my friend.

John

Thank you. Much appreciated.

This makes one think. I like it.

Powerfully penned, Ghosteen. Excellent write my friend. This one has layers. Appreciate you.

Damian

Me being an ocean goer, get it. Although my ass is going to end up in Texas eventually, LOL. I love swimming in/under the ocean. We used to play in riptides, for Christ sake! (Don’t panic, go with the currents, etc).
I’ve swam in it during a thunderstorm, at night, name it.
One of the VA hospitals near here is partly over the water. My dad was there awhile, before going home to pass on. Yet, it seemed so cruel for the patients to look out the windows at the water… I dunno.
Anyway! I sense morphine in your write. (I’ve had my days on it!)
You take us on quite the journeys when you explore your mindscapes. I’m all in!

I’ve read this over 3 times. Dreams are a magical gateway.
Makes me wonder how our experiences change the older we get.
There is something about it that sticks to the mind.

I’m aware of the phases of pain, Curt, and you seem to be as well, tho I do see some differences in our perceptions of it. You might like my piece, “Dark Alice Comes to Call.” Hmmm, I just checked, and it seems I never uploaded that one. Strange, I’ll have to remedy that. In the meantime, along the same lines is, “Dead Muse.” It’s here somewhere.