I'm driving east towards Detroit, blinding snow, cars piled up on the road.
I sent email forwarning my mother that I might be delayed. As usual, I pictured
the data as I sent it, moving along its path to my mother's computer. She
knows, by now, that I'll be late. I ate an orange and pictured its path
as it fragmented into its constituent nutrients inside of me. Efficient
systems. The cars on the freeway are moving at a crawl. Look out, someone
ahead is spinning around the frozen road. Now I'm really stuck here, piled
behind stacks of stalled traffic. On the giant freeway's path, but not moving.
Stuck in Michigan's esophagus.