Momentary Insecurity of an Id

Momentary Insecurity of an Id

I hit the brake as I near
the red light intersection.
Music from my massive
stereo is playing
the loud sounds of LMFAO.

I see ahead through my
sunglasses, hanging out of
other driver’s side windows in my
lane and beside it, the hands of
people leaning wrists on their
windows. One hand leaning
out of a mini-van had
a smoldering cigarette
curled in between fingers.
Other hands had rings on
fingers, or bracelets sagging
down past their palms.

I think for a moment, about
turning down my music for
their courtesy and
resting my wrist on my car
window like the others,
because it was warm out.
My ‘unique’ bracelet might even
dangle as properly and
pathetically as theirs.

But I don’t.
I turn the music up proudly,
and turn the air conditioning on.

Maybe
I’m not
different.

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