"Something" 8x10 Graphite and Ink on Paper by Terrence L Cope
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I squint through sun light reflecting on a line of machines...trucks.....cars, as they sit idling on the highway. Like tiny ants in a line we march our ways to and fro, restricted to this pavement like the paths of our lives, Cocooned in steel and plastic, stereo blasting, I stare blankly with no thought, neither happy nor sad. We speak not words, we speak the language of cars, we know who we are by what we drive. Our deepest thoughts are laid out through a few choice words on a bumper sticker, a flag on the mirror or balls hanging from a trailer hitch. I have traveled this road a thousand times before and not a soul do I know yet we are brothers and we share the same mind. Red lights dance in the rising heat as to guide me on my way, but I cannot move and I must stay for we are America.....
...... and we are going home.
