Nicole Farmer

White man in a big black pickup truck

Race the Rising Sun by Linda Rhoades

barrels past me on the right flipping me the bird
holding his middle finger high and stiff for at
seconds so I am sure to absorb the effrontery.

At first, I am puzzled as to why my presence
can be so insulting, so evocative – how merely traveling
on the same highway in the same direction can bring such rage.


Is it my tiny yellow car?
Is it the fact that I am only going
                   ten miles above speed limit in the fast lane?
Is it my gender?

Oh, that’s right, I now remember,
it must be my bumper stickers:

black lives matter
love thy neighbor
make america read
teach peace
fight hate

Off he goes into oblivion
propelled by his aggression,
disturbed by my freedom of expression.

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