The license plate in front of me read, simply, ELEGIDO.
Wow. A saint? Messiah? Politician? Ordinary car, a Kia.
Should I follow it? Was this a sign for me to drive away,
abandon my routine—left turn at 3rd, and home to Kay?
Continue straight down Prospect, toward 26, and west?
Was that where all of the elect, and the elected, massed?
The traffic light turned yellow, and the Kia squirted past.
I had to stop for red. I guess this jailbreak wasn’t meant.