Exposed Ribs
Anthony R. Cordello

I got caught in eight, nine years
of bumper-to-bumper traffic
caused by a head-on collision
between two eighteen-wheelers
each hauling a dozen pickup trucks
and each pick-up truck had an ATV
strapped to its bed. Of course
this happened during rush hour,
at the start of the holiday weekend
and the end of the annual marathon
while the world series dragged on
during the halftime of the superbowl,
while the president played chicken
with the pope, inciting the governor
to declare a statewide evacuation,
moving the attorney general to
block every exit with pyramids of
burning tires. In a sane world there
would have been medical tents in
the breakdown lane and relief workers
handing out bottled water, granola bars,
pillows, pocket constitutions. Instead
there was just the flames dimming the
taillights, cherrying the soundwalls.
I lit another traffic cigarette and blew
the smoke against the windshield.

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