deepundergroundpoetry.com
When I'm in my car
When I'm in my car I think about things
Like the buzzards that always loiter over the highway,
And the orange hue sinkining into its asfault,
And the 1968 Volkswagen Bug that's been sitting on the shoulder for 3 days,
And what I'm going go wear tomorrow,
And the eyeless shadow figures peering in at me,
And how many opossums get hit by cars on this stretch of road every day,
Probably explains the buzzards.
I also think about why I hate my job so much
And if any of the shadow figures thought I was hot,
And if the person who drove the 1968 Volkswagen is okay,
And if my girlfriend is home yet,
And why this construction has been going on for 8 months,
And why I spend so much time at my job I hate.
The only time I have to think about things
Is in my car.
Like the buzzards that always loiter over the highway,
And the orange hue sinkining into its asfault,
And the 1968 Volkswagen Bug that's been sitting on the shoulder for 3 days,
And what I'm going go wear tomorrow,
And the eyeless shadow figures peering in at me,
And how many opossums get hit by cars on this stretch of road every day,
Probably explains the buzzards.
I also think about why I hate my job so much
And if any of the shadow figures thought I was hot,
And if the person who drove the 1968 Volkswagen is okay,
And if my girlfriend is home yet,
And why this construction has been going on for 8 months,
And why I spend so much time at my job I hate.
The only time I have to think about things
Is in my car.
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