Too Fast, Too Late

Finally, it is getting hot. The sun is shining. The skies are blue. Once again. The wind blowing through what is left of my hair, I keep on rolling the the lever for the windows to sink so everyone else with their windows down can hear the music too. The speakers are bumping bass-intensive trance music to pass this drive by faster. Faster. Faster so I can pass everyone by. This repetition of melodies cycling round and round this never ending road leading me down and down that I am actually going up waiting for the climax waiting for a brick on the road anything anything

I push the gas pedal, the engine roars like a mechanical lion. This jungle, I call 87 N, has a lot of traffic during this time. I smell the gasoline burning, intensifying the heat of this hot day. These exhausted pipes fuel this air. I can see this air getting more rigid like waves of a toxic ocean, like the transparent outlinings of ghosts. So empty, yet dense. I can taste the bitterness of this so-called necessity to go faster, to maintain this speed.

I am trying to get home 75 miles per hour. The fast lane, though it's just me.. It's 3:27. 3 minutes until the middle of the hour. I can't stand being in the middle. I wish I could have those 30 minutes back because time is so precious. That's what I've been taught.

PAUSE.

Where am I? Where am I going really? How am I really doing? Output more Q's so more A's can come out at such an alarming rate. product product. BEEP BEEP. It's TIME to WAKE up, but I'm too tired to get up again and again and again. To get back on this road. Back and forth. Back and forth. I am beat down by time though so many people want to beat time. Sometimes, I just want to take it slow so I can see myself move without the blindfolds.

I'll be sure to give you time.