… while I’m in this 1950s beauty.
Murky shade of green.
And big.
And I’m going …
“Whoa!”
I can hear the tires screeching.
Who’s that, I’m wondering.
Alone out there in the darkness.
But all I hear is my echo.
And the constant buzz of skillful navigation.
So I keep going.
Up to the point of collapse.
Never knowing what’s ahead.
But knowing – believing in myself enough – to know what’s good for me and what’s not. –
Knowing I will restore my control of the steering wheel.
And I will follow your wishes.
(Could you please stop with those left turns, already?
Dramamine isn’t working.
So essentially, it doesn’t matter.
But it does.
To me.)
