The Job Market Slide


For how many nights have I slept in this car, the dog behind the wheel, myself crooked across the back seat? Unceasingly, passing headlights attack the darkness, and my sleep wavers like water with the traffic’s tides. I tell myself I couldn’t rest in a bed surrounded by softly exhaling neighbors asleep in their own houses, faces lit by their radio clocks. But sometimes a semi refusing to change lanes rocks the car, and in my sleep I think I’m still traveling: the dog driving, I ride. And not waking, I worry I’m turning too strange to go home, and an awful panic kicks in my chest like an unstunned rabbit in a pillow case.

DAVID BRUZINA currently teaches reading, writing and rhetoric in the English Department of the University of South Carolina Aiken. He enjoys cooking, fishing, hunting, arguing, and goofing around with dogs.