Smacking the streets and wandering skulls harder than a hail of bullets
The sky as dark as a lifeless neighborhood on lockdown,
as overcast as mirror after a hot, long-winded, shower
The seats, dripping black and yellow, soaking wet,
the disposed leftovers spoiled
The cats and dogs whine and wail
Chubby brown Tabbies,
strapping Salukis,
Angoras and Havanese
Desperate for affection, attention
a pat, a scritch,
a bowl, a foil of food
But the roads nearby are awash with cars,
from pale-white Toyotas to lane-and-a-half pickup trucks,
jammed, grounded and blinking uncontrollably
Standing beside, across, and behind each other,
on a three-turned-six-lane highway
Their mirrors, windows,
from all ends: the front, sides, and back
completely drenched
The standstill sets off the impatient drivers
awaiting their spouses, lovers,
Netflix, beds and hefty dinners
Irate, they vulgarly moan,
at the skies, their steering wheels
and each other, from the window or by their protruding car door
From the f-bombs,
to the genitalia-related directives,
to the curse your fathers,
mothers,
sisters,
wives and husbands
Accompanied by the customary,
pointless,
feckless,
relentless honking
The traffic officer’s fists clench, cap off,
desperate to regain his capricious authority
The cats and dogs nearby
still whine and wail,
bawling for their uninterested and apathetic attention,
and a dry, edible meal
But the drivers moan and honk some more,
louder than the cheers for a disgraced celebrity
The insults grow more vulgar,
personal and extra-physical
Threats from a kick to the ass and a punch to the face
The usual empty and high-testosterone-induced drivel
However, minutes later, the drizzles start to wane and clouds start to clear
The drivers itch to capitalize on this welcoming upswing,
for a return to their more relaxed sanctuaries and solitudes
They hop back into their driving seats,
pull the clutch from Park to Drive
quicker than a Muslim breaking a fifteen hour fast
The sounds of vroom, vroom,
tire scratches on the wet surface,
the sights of black, smoky gas
fill the misty atmosphere
vying for pole arrival
From 0 to 70
The cars go,
full turbo
The diminishing, thick white lines
a total blur
the red, yellow and green
a shunned rainbow
70 to 90
The drivers maintain their impetuous tear
90 to 11
The whines and wails,
the barks and meows
evolve into agonizing shrieks, screams and screeches
110 to 120
The tiny, wet paws begin to
scamper, scurry, slip
towards a safe-zone,
a sidewalk, a static automobile or trash dump
120 to 130
Follicles of fluff, silky, white and brown
fur suddenly surface, and scatter
Omar Almasri is a freelance writer based in Jordan.
@OAlmasri
