just enough to grab my ticket and go.
Can’t stop, not enough time;
still have 260 miles to go.
Another 260 miles?
You’ve already been on the road two hours,
you’re insane to drive that alone!
I just smirk and climb into my
tiny little Honda Accord,
with ten CDs hiding behind
the sun visor, and one
horrible cup of coffee balancing
in the cup holder,
I seem to fly down the road,
that same smirk donning my face,
knowing that when
I finally do stop, I’m free,
and this 260-mile stretch of
cracked asphalt and dead animals
is what separates me
from my independence.
