I was like “What?”

I’m stopped at a red light.  I’m listening to NPR.  The coffee was grown in a country I know nothing about.  It was roasted in Oregon, but I can’t drink it until some of the energy is transferred in the form of heat to the air here in Brooklyn.  Some jerkoff is honking.  The Yanks won.  Corruption charges, autumn breeze.  Some jerkoff is honking.  I’m breathing in I’m breathing out.  Images of a pile of envelopes, tossed one by one into a bucket of flames.  Some jerkoff is honking.  How did I get here?  I’m blocking the jerkoff and he just wants to turn and he is four feet away from me and his window is also open but instead of using his voice he’s honking and I laugh hard and scooch up a few feet so he can turn and laugh more and I’m alone and I was like “What?”