Why the Man Across the Street is Like a Grain of Rice

Today the man across the street was so in a rush to wherever he was going that he nosed his car between the car I was driving and a parked car, as if his car could suddenly turn on its side and propel itself through the two foot space, and I yelled out my window, “back up, back up” which he finally did, backing into the grill of our truck parked on the street, so I could turn my car into my driveway and then he sped away as if whatever business was calling him was the most dire on the entire planet and it made me wish I had a rifle in the house and was prone to taking violent action in response to outrageous acts of automobile primacy but then I would be like the folks who shoot people on freeways because they change lanes without signaling, chase them down the off ramp and into neighborhoods where people are barbecuing and minding their own business until they hear shots ring out, so yes, I understand sometimes how rage happens even though that’s not who I am, it’s not what I do, but the distance from here to there seems short, like a single grain of rice held between my fingers which is why I advocate keeping the guns out of the hands of everyone who is likely to become greatly mad.


Photo by Darío Méndez on Unsplash

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