On Interstate 80, five miles per hour at best. Ten miles of backup: a cop car at roadside.
Raven rifles shrubs at the highway verge.
Clutch depressed, first gear, pull forward ten feet. Clutch again and neutral. She breaks off a willow branch. It is pencil-thin, longer than she is.
Geese cross the highway. A Volvo wagon cuts me off: half a mile per hour.
Raven flies to the light pole, perches. She waves her wand at us. A conductor. Four thousand drivers in view, one watching her.
Posted by: Chris Clarke
Categories:
Coyote
The Neighborhood
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