Amy in Traffic

He's masturbating
I'm telling you
He's masturbating
The man
The man in the car
In front of my car
Is masturbating
Like a fiend

LIKE A FIEND, GEORGE

He did not DROP something
On the floor of his car
He may be trying to pump up a giant balloon
I suppose that could be possible
But he most certainly did not DROP something
AND I resent your tone
I resent it, George

I RESENT IT

How is he masturbating?
How, George?
Can you tell me?

What, exactly, is so erotic
About rush hour traffic?
Is he turned on
By exhaust fumes and road rage?
The honking of horns?
The shitbox Buick in front of him?

He's probably a sex offender
He's probably listening to Light Rock
The sound of soothing dj's
Probably wets his whistle
The freak

And the woman next to me
Smells like a pig farm
Like a pig farm, George

DON'T TELL ME I CAN'T SMELL HER!

I have my windows rolled up
I'm blasting my air conditioner
I haven't inhaled through my nose
For the past eight minutes
And I CAN SMELL HER!

She's shoving down a footlong
Like she's about to be trapped in her car
For the next seven weeks
Without food

Which
Considering the traffic
Is a distinct possibility

Nevertheless
Her odor is wafting over
Into my car
And now I feel like I'm going to vomit
But I don't know where I'd do that
Since not only is the traffic bumper-to-bumper
It's window-to-window

That means I could either throw up
In Pig Farm Polly's car
Except that would mean putting my head
Inside her vehicle
Which would probably make me throw up more
And with more intensity
Not to mention I'd never get the smell
Out of my pores

Or I could scoot into the passenger's seat
And throw up into the sports car
On the other side of me
But he has tinted windows
Which means he has sex in his car

TINTED WINDOWS EQUALS SEX IN CARS, GEORGE

I could be intruding on fellation
I could throw up onto the head
Of some very nice girl
Fellating some gentleman
Old enough to be my father
And then she'd have to get her uniform laundered
Before school tomorrow

I should hook her and the guy in front of me up
It could be a new dating show

'We Met in Traffic...And We're Sex Offenders'

The woman behind me
Listen to how cliche this is
She's in a minivan

A MINIVAN, GEORGE

What?
I'm not screaming
I was just talking over the horns
A dairy queen truck
Flipped over on the highway
And now rivers of ice cream
Are pouring down upon us
The weary travelers
Homeward bound

I'm tempted to try and open my door
Dip my shoe down a few inches
And scoop up some raspberry raisin
For the ride home
But Pig Farm Polly would probably
Jump out of her car
And fight me for ownership
Of the raspberry river

GEORGE, ARE YOU THERE?

That time I was yelling
Because I couldn't hear you
You don't listen to me
We don't communicate
I'm stuck in traffic
I need your support
And you're not listening

GEORGE!

What?
Lost service?
Me or you?
Never mind

So the woman behind me
Minivan Mabel
She's crying

I don't know why, George
I was going to write a sign
And ask her about it
Using the dust on my counsel
And a piece of paper
Ripped out of my owner's manual
But that seemed like overdoing it

I think she's crying because she's tired
Because she wants to go home
Because nobody will let her go home
The world won't let her go home
Fate has intervened
And trapped her in a nightmare
In a minivan, no less

I think she's crying
Because her husband is leaving her
Because he's found another woman
One who doesn't feel the urge to work
To be a productive member of society
A Daddy's girl who lives off the family bank account

Crying Mabel in the Minivan doesn't have that luxury
She has to work in the smelly city all day
Then come home to screaming children
And her husband
Who works from home
And who can't possibly understand her sacrifice

She's crying and she wants to go home
Or she's crying because she HAS to go home
Or because there's nowhere else for her to go
Who knows, George, who knows?

George?

George...?

I'm stuck, George
I'm stuck here
I'm stuck
And I don't know when I'll be unstuck

And it's claustrophobic, George
And it's scary
And it's all around me
And I'm alone
And these strangers
There horrible people
They're closer to me right now
Than you are

I'm more invested in their lives
Than I am in yours or ours
Isn't that sad?

George...?

I know you're not there
I know you're not there, George
I know, I know, I know

I know