The lucky ones Charles Bukowski

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Stuck in the rain on the freeway, 6:15 p.m.,
These are the lucky ones, these are the
Dutifully employed, most with their radios on as loud
As possible as they try not to think or remember

This is our new civilization: as men
Once lived in trees and caves now they live
In their automobiles and on freeways as

The local news is heard again and again while
We shift from first gear to second and back to first

There's a poor fellow stalled in the fast lane ahead, hood
Up, he's standing against the freeway fence
A newspaper over his head in the rain

The other cars force their way around his car, pull out into
The next lane in front of cars determined to shut them off

In the lane to my right a driver is being followed by a
Police car with blinking red and blue lights - he surely
Can't be speeding as

Suddenly the rain comes down in a giant wash and all the
Cars stop and