#760: Early Morning Ride to the Airport in Darkness

At 4:30 in the morning
there’s no one on the roads
until one gets close to the airport
and suddenly there are cars
everywhere. The departure lane
is jam packed and I can’t even
get close to the curb to drop
off my son, so he has to make
a go of it three lanes deep
to join the throngs of air travelers
on their way to some godforsaken
place before the sun comes up.
My gas tank registers empty, but
I’m pretty sure I can make it home
if not a gas station close to home.
I’ve never really tested how far
I can go on an empty tank; it’s not
a risk I’m excited about taking.
The indicator says I can go 20 more
miles, but after driving about 10
it says I’ve got only about 4 miles
of distance left. I pull into my
regular station at 5:56, four minutes
before opening, and I’m not sure if
four minutes of idling might empty
the tank, so I go further down
the road where the gas is over
five dollars a gallon and I think
about how stupid this war is, and
how stupid our president, and how
stupid the entire administration,
and how angry I am that I owe
the Federal Government money.
I fantasize about refusing to pay
my taxes, but know, unlike Henry
David Thoreau, that there would
be no one who could afford to bail
this conscientious objector out of jail.