Time and space warp

One minute I'm on the Cape, then the next thing I know I'm heading northbound on 495 and suddenly a great ball, blood-dripping red, lights up the cab of the truck from behind, like a nuclear explosion that obliterates everything on the other side of the bridge because that's the way it seems: as I park in the dusty back lot by the construction equipment where I live, as I jump on the moving commuter out of the station, as I shuffle onto the elevator filled with all my white white co-workers, as I order my measly bagel from the same guy I always do downstairs.