thoughts on wheels

Inanities in a car. They bounce off each other. They pry and prod and sprinkle and hang.

Look at me, I’m so funny. I even laugh the loudest at my jokes. It doesn’t bother me that he is sitting there, smiling blandly, look at him.

Look at me. I’m smirking confidently. I can be a part of this car, I can talk anything, and be at ease. I know enough and understand enough and can say enough. Not like him, squeezed and confused in the middle, in more ways than one. At least that other guy is quiet and cool because he is driving. He is meant to focus on other things. But maybe that’s just his excuse.

Look at them, exchanging their opinions for free. Everyone wants to be at ease doing it though everyone is forced together by circumstance and space. Forced natural smiles, contrived spontaneity, cultivated laughter. Look at me, thinking I am different from them, or worse still, above it all. Look at me, my words colliding in my head, reveling in their depth.

All the while, just inanities in a car.

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