Flashback in Traffic

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When traffic grinds to a halt,
is there freedom on the freeway?
Where are the keys to the ka?

A cobra wraps itself around my ankle,
chafing at the sandal crushing its head.
The boat rocks in the khamsin,
listing on the river, shudders against
the sunken apex of a block
meant for the pyramids, now doing time
as the curse of the pharaohs.
The hull is breached and the dinghy
ships water like a thirsty camel.
As the Nile cascades across the gunwales
we snag some oddments of flotsam,
papyrus and a palimpsest or two,
contemplate the absurdity of this life
and dive head-first into inscrutable waters —

even as the geese begin honking in protest.

Flashback in Traffic originally appeared in Recursive Angel.