Then I drove home in the middle of the night.
Alone on tar rivers oozing under heavy air.
A 35mph speed limit.
I was Heinz ketchup before squeeze bottles.
I was a go kart with a governed throttle.
Time itself signaled and passed; in a double yellow section, of course.
What county cop would stop time for such a minor infraction?
What county cop was awake?
At least time signaled.
That was polite, or ordinary for a thing that’s never early and never late.
Right on time to be precise.
But passed me in the night.