A bottle of eye drops lost in the thin
dark under her passenger seat is
just missed by her fingertips.
The caffeine in her blood makes the
edges of her vision blur and the music
sound like static in her brain.
She never could predict the rain
or locate where to go with simple
directions.
The tension in her shoulders
could be seen working it’s way to her
temples as she buried both her red
eyes in her hands.
Small hotels on the way home smell like
cigarettes from years ago and you can’t
tell when it’s morning without the windows.
Teleporting Typewriter 