Yellow tape

I can’t even think

The car ride

Is jarring my


I have a handfull

Of roses


My lips are parched

I pull back into

My lane

The lady with

The beetle eyed


Glares at me

And honks her horn

I try to focus on


I look down at

My phone

It’s ringing

The sound vibrates

Through the speakers

In the car

Why isn’t she answering

Why isn’t she answering

I swerve again

My gas tanks on E

My tie pressure is low

My check engine light is on

Smoke is pooling around the


I look in the rearview

At my forehead

Beads of sweat

Creep through the hair

My mouth is parched

The flowers are dead

I crash

And the phone keeps ringing


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