Now feels slow.
And what say you?
Will you be letting me walk right up and peer inside the expanse of your wide windows, all at a snail’s pace to learn?
Are you actually relaxing in there?
I drive reckless at times.
But straight enough to read your billboards on the road. They scream to me Talk Me Down, Category 5, Whirlwind At Work.
How many feathers need I blow?
And in what direction?
May I help calm your soul, pull you safely inside where, at the very least, you can put back on the gloves?