I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Thursday, December 15, 2016

Scenes from a Commute


Snow, in case you were wondering. Doubled the time in. Not that this was necessary. There were plenty of times the road and the sky was clear, but people still wanted to go 20+ mph below the speed limit. Save that for where it's treacherous, people. Make up time elsewhere.

And yes, my windshield is now very cracked. That happened last week. Fortunately it's all in the lower fifth of the windshield.

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