If you try to drive while you sleep,
sleep never comes to the vacant stare at lanes, yellow eyes to make ready for lane changes, to night, to sleep forever - so long as gas lanes are not too full of customers daring to ready the cot. And then, leaving the scape of islands, they remember how often it takes to wipe the shield, as though I could never take a sleep aid for daring to doze off - laughing as though I never thought of lives in other cars, dangling beside the median. Still, it's not the median that cares, an average sleep time that passengers just love to see there, taking their naps between oncoming traffic, as though it were easy, as though we were - when really it's a mirage - this time we drift. Like snow you say - taking plows that are remarkable to be angelic, lying there as I watch, breathing in and out while it sleets, safely in a manner of speaking - trials catch me unaware and prescribe the perfect number of passengers.
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Larry Ingram is a writer and news video producer, Categories
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September 2016
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