The arguments people have in
their cars are so loud that they
echo when they drive through
any tunnel. The railings that run
down the sides have a few small
sections that are stained red from
where the paint of a motorcycle
helmet scraped off during a wreck.
No one notices the young couple
touching each other in the back of
the theater, or they do but are just
choosing to ignore it. Afterwards
they’ll drive around aimlessly talking
about their lives, and describing instances
where they thought it would be impossible
to be together. As the night goes on the less
likely they are to go home at all, and who
would want to anyway?
Endless
Teleporting Typewriter 