We were a little late leaving town—
not real late,
just a little.
But I was ready to be further down the road.
We were at a red light
and I was anticipating getting on the interstate—
leaving behind the stop signs
and the four-way stops of our neighborhood—
the 25 mph speed limit,
and the red lights that led to the interstate
and the 40 mph speed limit.
Ready for speed—
for that expectation of momentum and progress—
almost like going into some lesser form of warp speed—
until, closer to our destination,
we would anticipate leaving, at the end,
what we were so anticipating getting on, here at the beginning,
and exit back into red lights and stop signs,
and slower speeds,
and the expectation of arrival.