time for you, time for me

One day we will forget our commute was anything more than the hallway to our home office. Many already have. Others have found public transportation and its symphony of human flinches, farts, shuffles and downcast eyes. But, for those still involved in the daily migration of the herd, the iPod brought back the hermetic freedom of a humming car: warm notes rising out of the speakers like the engine warming your feet on a frigid autumn day. We pick playlists to soundtrack our lives, our own choices echoing in our head like the fated weight of coincidence that the radio once carried. The driver says so little because he’s already spoken through the soundtrack. And we’ll listen, but we’re already waiting to put our own ear-buds back in.