by Susan Vespoli
“Don’t become a monster fighting monsters.” —paraphrased Nietzsche quote
Stuck on the Mill Avenue Bridge in Tempe
a mile (Siri says an hour) from the stadium
Bernie and AOC fill to capacity with voters
in tee-shirts that say “Resist,” “Tax the Rich,”
“Hope Persists,” and 1000s more line up outside,
circle the arena, live stream speeches on their phones;
us trapped in the car, the woman behind us melting
down, honking, gesturing through her windshield
for us to MOVE and my date is the kind of driver
who smiles, waves other motorists into the flow,
but she is blasting her horn, mouthing epithets,
as his jaw clenches, middle finger twitching to flip,
and I get it, but we’re gridlocked here.
My granddaughter once said, if we had a flying car,
this wouldn’t happen, but we don’t,
so I unbuckle my seatbelt, turn around and rise
so she can see me and I give her the peace sign
and the namaste hands, and then shrug, what can we do?
And her face looks like it might explode off her neck—
until eventually the logjam loosens and she zooms
into the next lane, passes us, her back bumper
stickered with peace signs.
Susan Vespoli writes from Phoenix, AZ and believes in the power of writing to stay sane. Her work has been published in The New Verse News, ONE ART, Anti-Heroin Chic, Gyroscope Review, and other cool spots. She is the author of four poetry books.
