B549fishtaco

Here in my car. You can see me but you sure can't hear me. What is it I'm singing? Who's on the other end of my cell phone conversation? And the guy across the intersection, he's picking his nose, but you can't tell him that's gross because he won't hear you. And I think he feels really good about that. If we pull up to a red light, I might look over. We might make eye contact. But I'll pretend we didn't, playing with the radio dial and adjusting my rear view mirror, praying the light changes quickly. I will never roll my window down because that means you've penetrated my bubble. Suddenly I'm vulnerable, and if you talk I must respond. It's a beautiful thing, driving down the road, surrounded by so many other people and completely without small talk obligation. And how fascinating that we're all going somewhere. We all have something to do, someone to see, some aspect of our lives which compels us to get in our cars and drive. Every person in every car has a life. They eat breakfast and go to work and watch Conan. They all have epiphanies, even about cars.
k, bye.