Driving

Driving

Windows down, music up

The air presses against me, shivering

Sun blankets us both

Trees race across the whole spectrum of possible greens

I feel small,

Looking through the legs of the forest

It’s the same feeling I had last night

When I sat down in the middle of the pressed concert crowd

There!

In that golden wheat field –

The ants know what I mean

 

 

 

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