Quiet Time

Time spent isolated in cars, for me, is to make decisions, ambitions,
chastise myself for lack thereof the latter.

It’s a ritual, one that will not be ending soon.
and like anything (maybe the only thing) done everyday for ten years, became meditative.

I cry when driving late at night, listening to my own many revelations.

My best self is in vehicle, thinking my best thoughts, laying my best plans.
Whether the mouse or the plow, the match was set with throttle involved.

It’s hard to admit that everything else feels like a distraction from that.

The sun is very bright today, I know because
on this drive I kept looking up and thinking,
“the sun is very bright today”.

The night was for sad silent contemplation,  this morning for silly thoughts,
but if I keep looking up, my eyes won’t stay dry anyway.


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