On the drive home today I saw a few soda cans on the roadside.
and in the distance, a thick brown smoke cloud blowing from the tip of a never-ending cigarette and I thought to myself.
When..... when did we paint the rose pedals, gun-metal?
when did we renovate flower racks and turn them to power plants?
but in that instant I was already putting my gun-metal pedal to the floor with my engine screaming the word:
What was I doing, thinking as if I had sudden clarity, a realization from the waste in front of me but no.
It was because I was propelling myself with what I was starting to despise.
Then again, I drive a Honda.