Eastbound 96

pressing the pedal into
raw sunlight
toward exit fifty-two
sucking sugar
off a black plastic spoon
on the road to
no homework
and no people
the little pink LG
here for “safety only”
I could gaze
at the hashmarks in the sky
for too long
and just slip off the road
so I might need it
BZZZZT!
a hideous, unnatural noise
the fiery impulse
to fling the pink block between
highway grit and seventy-five
mile-an-hour tire treads
BZZZZT!
the stunning realization
that I won't text back
because I can't
without grating my life
against the road
Ha!
the world can wait
and suffer impatience
as I press forward
into seventy-nine
miles-an-hour
for the sake of remaining
superbly anonymous
and the understanding
that the texting gluttons
will never know
a freedom like this