Red lights are the worst
after you've dropped everyone off
sitting there waiting
The mindless act of driving suspended
leaving you alone with yourself
and all your thoughts
Suddenly the least of which is if that's a cop
Alone, with the taste of her on my lips
I wish she hadn't
I'd rather be outside looking in
than to be sitting here, red cast
the feeling of what I'm without
carved into my pec by each of her teeth
I'd rather she hadn't kissed me
rather not have been bitten
in every sense of the word
My knuckles crack on the wheel
and ache to feel a destruction beneath their hardness
The opposing light goes red
an entire intersection bathed in the same color
of wait and think about it
And then green, and I am lost again
hiding in the simple act of
"is that a cop?"
and rehearsed lines.
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