I Have Matured Now
Two race cars on I-70 are gaining on my red Lincoln.
They are propelled with extra momentum as they fly past.
Swishing around me as if I am sitting still.
I am traveling 77 miles per hour.
They must be doing at least a hundred each.
I know I have matured because I do not get angry.
I do not chase them down, determined to pass them
I do not cuss or get angry.
Instead, I admire their gumption
Remembering how I used to drive, once upon a time.
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