Sick of each blade of grass blurring into the next, trees becoming a series of bushes, streaks of green across the skyline. Was that a cow?
“Look — some sheep!
Oh, wait no, they were just wrapped haystacks — sheep without heads.”
Speeding past flurries of road signs: ‘turn off at the next junction’
“What? The one back there?” Driving on for a few more miles before being able to turn back again.
Stopping
at the services
to relieve natural needs.
Except for rest — you can sleep on the road.
Except your sickness will persist through the night and
you could miss some significant sights
which will be gone by the time you open your eyes.
Sick of driving in the fast lane; life on play ready to entertain.
“Pass the sweets” trying to **** the sugar from the bitterness of passing time.
Sick of help lines dotted sporadically across the sideline but never quite
in reach.
Sick of this constantly churning stomach which only stops when
asleep.
Sick of momentary flickers of other passengers
before they too go on their way.
A lack of individuality; a wave of sameness
Comforting. Sickening.
Every person is on their own life journey. Each life follows their own timeline and, if you're lucky, your timeline will overlap with someone else for a long stretch but mostly people flicker in and out of our lives like specks of dust. As we get older life seems to move quicker and our relationships, it seems, become fewer and more fragile. This is a testimony to that quickness of passing time.
