The Burbs

The shiny sedans and overcompensating SUVs swarm out of driveways and down hills. They dart in and out of streets wistfully named after flowers or longingly named for far-off places that hold their own glory.  Facsimiles that will never become here and now. Middle of the road zip toward the stop signs and through the stoplights, then enter the freeways where they sit lurching forward, inch by inch. They look out the window at their tacit neighborhoods propped upon hillsides, like small kingdoms that recoil at the thought of conflict. The drivers apply make-up, listen to the news, bob their heads to a song while remembering some past lover back when the world was for the taking, and like so many generations before, they believed themselves somehow special. Somehow the rebels chosen to define an era. Somehow groundbreaking. Now they strive to please the boss. To please a spouse. To raise children worthy of an occasional brag. They wonder how Amalia will do in level three gymnastics. She hops and flips around the house with abandon so much that one day she might break something. Hopefully, not the television. Sophia has always attacked the ball with the courage of a lion, but something is different this season. She needs to keep her mind on the ball and goals instead of boys. Diego. Oh, Diego. Poor young man is too serious. Wears his hair and clothes like a thirty-five year old manager of a store. He needs to untuck that polo shirt. he needs to throw away those mannequin dreams and be a child. Poor child. Can't he see the world in front of him doesn't need another follower. It doesn't need another car on the freeway, merging from the off-ramp into the line cars hoping that a boss notices the sincere effort; that a spouse notices the hard work; that the children notice the log hours; that the bill collectors see his side of the story that the car in his blind-spot sees him switching lanes, just like the guy in the old pick up sees him roll through the stop sign in a hurry to glide down the hill and into gridlock of his choosing.