Nothing I Wrote

Two Saturdays ago

Was it?

I was gliding down the freeway

Or maybe the back roads

No notion of the predicament I was in

Breathing heavy

Gripping the wheel

One hand stuck between a cigarette

The other catching the breeze

Like nothing could fall down on me

While rain poured like buckets

I caught in my hand, and held

For the passerbys, on a lonely

Road without a soul in sight.

Their thank you’s ring hollow

To my fragile ears I keep in a jar

Under my desk, that I only fetch when

The world around me gets too loud.

Whenever I feel that way I try

To take note of my surroundings,

With my eyes closed, 

Feeling nothing at all.