Scary driver smile.
White car smell
like hated red death trap
that Grandpa ran over
with his John Deere tractor.
It feels tainted,
coated in smoking
unseen masses of
long suffering
desperately grateful
waxen figures
who once had very good days.
The unending drone
from the speakers
is dessicated and obtrusive.
Is this what dead people listen to?
How can the driver stay awake?
My bad.
The driver died ages ago.
That smile, a rictus.
Written by Jason Wright
April 11, 2018