Sometimes I fantasize about stepping out of my car in the middle of rush hour to walk on the concrete barrier that separates the ebb and flow of traffic like the wall of a cholesterol-caked artery. People would stare at me from the confines of their steel boxes and(more) think me crazy, suicidal. I would pass them all- all these people in a rush and trapped with their pent up aggression and I would be the only one moving, the only one feeling the dirty, hot air rush through my hair.
They say time heals all wounds but they never mention how time can leave you abandoned and bleeding on the sidewalk. No one has the time to pick you up, brush you off and ask if you're okay. There's no time to lick your wounds. Slap a Band-Aid on your dirt encrusted scrape with the glass fragments still buried and move on. Your blood stains the sidewalk and countless shoes tread upon it.
The weight of a thousand pounds presses upon my chest. I watch another minute pass, an hour, a day. If I could only hold us still then maybe everything would be okay.