Relative Something

.

driving past the crow
that was standing on the side of the road
it is hard to know
if there is someone in particular
who knows where it lives
or will care when it dies
looking back at the stack of cars in the mirror
having successfully passed
the pokey driver at the front
watching the distance between us
grow
my hubris needs control
in the early foggy hours of a Monday
on the way home
from the lake
listening to a random shuffle of songs
auto-magically algorithm-ly selected
to fit the mood of the moment
sending miles and minutes flying
into the past

.

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