Driving to Work, I Pass Myself

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Driving to Work, I Pass Myself

Some days the drive takes twenty minutes,
on others, thirty or more. Seems I might pass
myself on the right morning if time flexed its
biceps or looped me into a dimensional shift
thick with donuts and tires and lost minutes.
How odd it would be to wave and say “see ya,”
knowing that tendered frustration grows in
distance, until it takes over the entire mirror.
Looking back, I see my frown diminishing
to a lone point in that shrinking van at the
hill’s crest. Will we meet in the parking
garage? Should I wait? You know the rules.

31 thoughts on “Driving to Work, I Pass Myself”

  1. stunning! just stunning! that side mirror – objects are closer than they appear – rear view – such a wealth of ideas and I love the particulars – if time flexed its
    biceps or looped me into a dimensional shift
    thick with donuts and tires and lost minutes.

    gorgeous!

    cheers!

    Liked by 1 person

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  2. Would those be glazed, sprinkled, or maybe maple-bacon donuts? There’s nothing like a good sinker, with a nice hot cup of coffee for dunking, while lost in a reverie over the view forward, lateral, or aft, to throw a wrench into the timeline of any continuum.

    Liked by 3 people

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  5. VERY intriguing … conjures curiosity about all the other red Rav4s I see on the roads … darkened glass makes who’s inside just a guess … are they other times of me, are other mes getting ahead of me? Will the others wait for me in the parking garage (whatever THAT metaphor turns out to represent!) … and, for heavens sake – WHAT rules? [Pretty sure I do NOT know the rules!!]

    Liked by 1 person

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