A Rarity

Prior experience warned me
not to try to take the Brookside shortcut
at that time of day
for fear of not being able to make
the required left turn at the end
against the mid-afternoon traffic
but my stubborn side prevailed.
When I got to said intersection
it was a gridlocked parking lot
waiting for the light to change.
One kindred soul perpendicular from me
in a ten-year-old red pick-up
gave me the omniscient look:
He wanted to let me cut ahead of him.
The carload of Mexicans
in front of his truck was in the way, however
and when the light finally turned
there was a slew of cars coming my way
that'd prevent me from making that left.
His arm was dangling through the open window
and the sweat was stinging the corners of his
squinting eyes. I knew and understood the
wrath of the awkward in-between phase of growth
his buzzed hair was in and I sympathized
with his lack of air conditioning
having been there once myself.
The cars were getting closer
and the Mexicans moved up
but it was too late to pull out
without getting T-boned.
I waved him on thankfully
with an accompanying nod of the head
and he let his foot off the break
and spread his fingers in response.
We were two young men who knew
each other for a few brief seconds
and tried to make the best of it.