:on being happy

the position of the rear view mirror sits right at my sight.
so my glance repeats and i drive, on
a summer day with leather seats.
and all i’m left to think
of
are all the cars
passing me by.

i make the farthest of drives to places i’ve already been.
memories of colorless dreams. the same scenes.

i watch myself walk out of all the doors.
motioning hello.
with an employable kindness, tanned knees.
wearing grey and soft pinks.
while the me i’ve never known
sticks to the seats.
a hiccup defeat.

routine.

asking over and over again,
“how do i get
to me?”

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