I’m trying to talk to you,
anxiety’s on this freeway too,
you are trying to follow your friend’s car
in a town that’s new to only me.
but, then my purse
every stray stowage
out of my car and I’m trying to drive
and grab my purse floating above my head
Fuck, above my head?!
Chalkboard edges fucking up my peripheral…
there goes the turn.
the car, the friend I’m talking to is making a turn
and I’m in the w r o n g lane,
now where, why, how am I not being chased by death,
just wants to kill me
and now I’ve missed my turn.