Exit to George Washington
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/6/01 7:50:42 PM

Getting back into the river of cars was rough
I had to keep sticking my head out the window
To look for a large enough gap
The Saturn was bigger than the Shadow.

Finally I hit the gas and slowed the car in the right
My watch told me it was about 4:30 in silver and black plastic
Soon the park was behind me and I was completely engaged in motion
There were traffic lights all around.

I flowed straight ahead until the street changed names
I noticed a sign at the curbside that read Frederick Douglas Boulevard
I had entered through Harlem and exited to freedom.
The George Washington's steel frame was just ahead.

I followed to the end
Past more jersey's and carriages
Careful to stop with every red sign
Smoking my pulse up all the way.

I was hot and thirsty
So I opened a bottle of water
That I'd bought at the truck stop near Corning
Where they'd sold me the purple fry soda.

It seemed like I sweat before I swallowed.
The water poured from my wrinkled forehead
As I entered the concrete guide way
Trapped in a sluggish fiberglass conveyor
Baking like a tin foiled potato.

The cars and trucks were at an aneuristic halt.
Nothing moved.

I feared the worst If I had moved my foot from the brake
At an all too unpleasant moment.

I'll say I made it with caution
But that was far from the end of the experience
Getting out of the jungle concrete cost me twelve-fifty
Of the twenty in my wallet.

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