Sarah Berger - September 30, 2020

SMALL BLADDER

The highway ramp to the George Washington Bridge was a fume-belching viper, every vehicle a shimmering scale along its back. Boston to Baltimore, I’d had to pee since Bridgeport. Cars inched. I raged. I wept.

I made a plan.

Towels and clothes from my beach trip were in the back. I grabbed them, slithered out of my pants, and carefully built myself a laundry nest. With a shirt across my lap (no luck, tall trucker next to me), I laughed with relief.

I admit it. A penis — convenient personal hose — would have been useful.

At Vince Lombardi, I tidied up.

 

Sarah Berger is a writer and classical singer living in Baltimore. Her essays “Winter in the Wall” and “Afterlife” were published in Glass Mountain/Shards and Prometheus Dreaming. She is writing a novel about a cohort of music students graduating in the year 1965, and she is a current student in the University of Baltimore’s MFA program in Creative Writing and Publishing Arts.