NY SLIDE III: MERGE exe.

             One morning he discovered a second challenge to his beleagured spirit, the need
         to execute the merge.
             He would come down the access ramp to the expressway only to find a stream of
         traffic tearing down the right lane, showing no desire to slow and let cars slip
         in. This meant he had to wait and wait; stare into his sideview mirror, watch for   
         a break, while drivers behind him honked their horns and hinted he lacked road
         courage.
             Compelled once to wait his turn behind a timid driver craning his neck to look 
         back as if pleading for a chance to merge, he discovered his own irritability. He'd
         swear at cars in front of him…Damn Taurus sitting there….just sitting there…
         shiiiitt… Ford Escort with your stupid AAA sticker and Proud Parent sticker… for 
         chrissake, move, move!
  He'd mutter and swear like this; then he'd feel chastened
         when his turn came to merge and the same thing happened, the same fearful
         hesitation; the car behind him poking its nose in an effort to show him how it was
         done in New York city.     
             He had to find a way; he had to find a way to execute the merge. One morning
         he did just that.
             He sat at the top of the ramp and watched the traffic, measuring the intervals
         between cars in the right lane. Drivers behind him wondering if he'd stalled honked 
         but he ignored them. He watched. He measured. He waited to swoop down.
             When he sensed the moment was right he stepped on the gas pedal and charged   
        down the ramp. A quick glance in his sideview mirror told him just how much
        acceleration he needed to avoid a fatal collision; and he kept going until he'd executed  
        the merge.      
            Sometimes he heard a screech of tyres as horrified drivers seeing this madman 
         hurtling down the ramp slammed on the brakes.
            "You have a good day, too!" Radix shouted, not looking back, slipping over quickly to
        the left lane and only then glancing in the rearview mirror in case the driver he'd cut off 
        decided to give chase which was quite likely, you never know, given the crazy things
        people do in this city.
         (from Ah, Mikhail, O Fidel! by N.D.Williams, 2001)
           

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Author: FarJourney Caribbean

Born in Guyana : Wyck Williams writes poetry and fiction. He lives in New York City. The poet Brian Chan lives in Alberta, Canada.

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