The ferry that wasn't there

Roadside plastic has faded, cracked and splintered in the gutters.
Headlights switch on and off each hundred meters. Music fades in and out, restless legs bend and straighten.
Kilometers of hopeful steering wheel grippers waiting.
Dogs bark from roadside slums inconsistently and a warm night breeze hits skin exposed. We moist as toads no notion of our predicament stuck on ferry road.
Each meter a prayer, even for the dozed.
Each horn blow a dare.
The painfullest question looming like a blind specter, like a forgotten care that gave birth to a lively present fear!
When will we get there?
A thousand exaggerations,
A thousand mouths eating a way at our scarce patience!
Ferry road vendors pass almost singing their offers, this is their time to bring and soften us.
God gave them the comfort of a well fed vulture, humble yet leveraging every hour of the long daunting wait.
Jokes and riddles don't calm us, every second screams our frustrated fate!
The local vendors optimistically Pushing cold drinks and coffee and sweet snacks into the wee hours in service of the unluckiest of the unlucky, our anticipation and our unkind hours of waiting.
None attempt to push in line even when a motorist falls asleep and leaves a gap.
Just the horns that beep and try to wake the laziness out the waiter from his nap.
The road strewn with the vendors empty containers, trash none had the patience to dispose of plainly.
Just like a thousand carcasses left to Mark the insane wait of the road to the ferry that wasn't even there.