nothing to write about #2

i don't notice what people

say around me; their actions

are not really a mystery because

that implies a curiosity i lack.

but there is noise and movement

coming from other humans and i

am unmoved by their tumults. i

notice how people drive--the

throb of the gas pedal, the

pound of the brake. i notice

their flawed gestures of careening

metal and know there are meat packets,

delicate as ground chuck,

driving these horrid machines.

We all go at least 60 mph to

various destinations, knowing

not all of us will make it.