Travelling in a pocket of darkness, trying to outrun the white lights, yet trying to catch up with the red ones. Alone in the pocket, a single vessel, seperated from the pack. Some would say this is a point of vulnerability.
A dark object darts past me, headed for the beaded wall of red lights ahead. A highway patrol. I toy with the possibility that I could go after it. A bold seal chasing after a cruising shark on a dangerous whim of curiosity in the flowing river of lights, metal, and glass. No. Impossible for anyone sane, or anyone who wants to get home in one piece.
And once again, I wonder.
Who is going to follow someone home tonight? Who is going to shoot them in the head for cutting them off, or showing any kind of perceived disrespect?
What violence. What incredible impulses. What has broken in these human beings to cause them to kill?
What are those last seconds like, as the maniac lifts the barrel of a loaded weapon?
A great shudder passes over me.
