Hunter green surface

Hunter green surface of the Housatonic River. Sun not so bright on the water for some reason on this clear day. Driving south on Grove Street. Look to the other side of the street, rows of trees, rows of heavy green shade. Some guy wants to build a couple-hundred condo units on the hillside. And a convenience store. And a restaurant on the river. Makes me want to hurl the fried turkey patties, eggs, roasted potatoes and carrots I had for lunch. Not "want to," of course. Is it a privilege to want? I turn left up onto Pumpkin Hill. Good god: when's the Suburban on my Civic ass going to realize I'm not driving through the little Subaru in front me? It makes the ride that it makes the ride that much makes the ride much longer into work. I get a kick when at the stop sign I turn right onto Ironworks and the Suburban speeds straight ahead on Long Meadow, right onto the Subaru's ass as if he really didn't see the Subaru the whole time. What an ass. Driving means a lot of ass. Jesus rode an ass. I remember in third—or was it fourth?—grade when me and my friends discovered the Bible used the word ass. We went around for weeks saying ass this and ass that because "it says ass in the Bible." Proto-South Park we were. Tuning out the priest and into our stupid joys. But there's nothing on the radio for most of the drive. I settle for The Rolling Stones, "Gimme Shelter," for the last minute or so. KC's favorite Stones' song. I can never remember what mine is. It used to be "Paint It Black," but I outgrew that. "Sympathy for the Devil?" Maybe. I liked the Jane's cover a lot. Who knows? The ride started so promisingly with the hunter green surface of the Housatonic River surprisingly not shining. But even after I shook that Suburban from my Civic ass, I noticed nothing. What the heck did I think about? I take off my sunglasses, put on my eyeglasses, grab my supper bag, and head into work. "Hey" and "Hi" and "How's it going?" Computer booting up; I am shutting down.