There’s no reason to tailgate someone in the slow lane, especially when I’m going 35 over the speed limit.
And those flashing lights on top of your car look ridiculous.
Love is not the only closet
I was told never to come out of.
There was also the closet of Grief.
The closet of Panic.
The closet of Terror.
The closet of Rage.
There was also the closet of Awe and Want and Bliss.
Every honest grit that we feel,
the world will ask for a stencil instead,
for the chatter of cordial manufactured polite.
I want to jackknife out of that net.