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?