Drive
A rolled up sweatshirt on the side of the road
looks like roadkill
The windows are down
and there is slobber marks splashed on the door
It's not from me
It's from my companion
I threw a banana peel into the bushes
Someone honks
I don't care
It will break down and rot
There is nothing like the wind of a warm fall day
blowing through my hair
I have relatively low stress
Not the person behind me
with the frazzled hair
and fists clenching their steering wheel
I can be late
I can lose my job
I can possibly live in the woods
That is a nice thought
I probably wouldn't last a week
All these people on the road
our eyes meet sometimes
Strangers trying not to crash
into each other
I wonder where they are going
Hopefully not to work
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