Traffucked

Somehow, I'm piecing together an existence.
I've got tools and skills, can do those things
people will always need doing: patch a ceiling,
replace a fixture, improve the home. It's a form
of self-reliance. Then again, this 4pm crosstown
drive home in a 41¢/minute Car2Go reminded me
I'm still balled up in the madness. What were
all of us doing there on the road? Most of it
I'm sure had something to do with chasing dollars,
people going to and from their jobs, just like me.

I marvel at our collective patience, the human
capacity for enduring this endless torrent of shit.
Could fucked traffic be teaching us zen detachment?
Or maybe that's just the Seattle style of driving:
"Desire to make the light is the root of all suffering."
I'm probably giving too much credit. Look around
and see drivers lost in their phones, not all there.

How did we get here? Where are we going? Gas, brake.
Stop, go. Back, forth. Barely afloat, circling the drain.