last night i was driving home from tenleytown, my body on empty, my gas tank on empty. in the city cars are closer, reach out and you can touch your red light neighbor.
i drove home with a middle aged man, last night. his hair was glossy black, the highlights illuminated by the red lights and green lights and guiding lights and flashing lights. his jaw was straight and defined, milky ink across his shoulders, lines of red dancing on his forearms, reaching to his cold steering wheel. he was looking to me, i was looking to him.
my hair was pulled tightly against my head, tight, anxiety. my hounds tooth right foot pushing brake after brake after brake. i could not pass a single crossing road without the light shining red, glaring down on me, cameras pointing directly, consequences if i cross. he was beside me, at each. to my left, like lovers in the morning, he'd stare between our two dividing glass sheets, smile, stare, not piercing, or hurtful, or angry, but a lover's stare. the both of us, locked until green, until the next red.
a lady in a maroon mini van cut me off in Bethesda, I rode alone for a few blocks, and at Jones Bridge he turned his head to find me. No traffic wave, but an assurance. the van pulled right at the next intersection and again, we were together. we laughed with each other at Strathmore Avenue. We enjoyed the company, from Western Avenue to Twinbrook Parkway. Twenty minutes, savored.
I did not worry like the world does, I did panic that an older man was following me in traffic, I worried that he was worrying about me. Worried that our time together could end at any moment.

There are apartment complexes between my house and the parkway I almost died on last summer, they're run down, filled with gang activity, police, swarming, danger.

He turned left there,
away from me,
away from us.