He weaved in and out of traffic,
So fast, metal-footed.
Where ordinarily I'd be curling my toes around an imaginary brake,
and carving crescent moons into the leather seats,
and biting back back-seat driving, what little of it I had to offer;
Instead I just strapped myself in
and watched the clouds cross the sky above the edge of my glasses.
So I gathered these words
and threw them up in the air
to fall back down silently
when I had a quiet moment.
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