written by: s.rowan.b
White knuckled grip at 10 and 3 o’clock
Miles of stop and go traffic,
Buildings pass by, in the blur of early morning autopilot.
The air in the car is like a personal coffee shop
Nocturne in E minor drifts lazily through the speakers
A moment of calm; before the slamming of breaks.
“Nice blinker asshole!”
Latest posts by s.rowan.b (see all)
- Remove The Mask - February 6, 2020
- Clamshell - May 26, 2018
- Commute - November 29, 2017