a backup on 1-95 towards college park

During the most dramatic yet creeping-almost-like-a-traffic-jam transitions, moments can seem quite gracefully planned--from the most agonizing lonely afternoon with no friend to enjoy the beautiful falling of leaves upon rusted grasses, to the instant blow to the ego when realizing everything i thought i knew must be redefined, evaluated once more, because what i know now is not enough to make me feel on top of the world like i used when days were fed to me on a golden spoon by the comfort of the familiar. And the image is something like a thick portion of half & half seeping into my iced coffee that sits black and smug in it's strong and comfortable position within a clear pint glass, now altered and infected by some unknown substance forging into its realm via someone elses hand--not its own--and for a while i just sit there in disbelief and watch the two liquids as they do anything but mix, assertively (and stupidly) staring one another in the eye just hoping the other breaks down first and surrenders to a life of it's quality and shade. But thus, neither can ever achieve their wish, for soon in an unavoidable fashion, the two colors are mixed into one and it becomes clear that the broader recognition must be made, not about the coffee of course, but about the traffic-jam-transition: the places and people have not only changed me, but i too have changed people and places, and here we are... we're right here.