Unfinished and untitled

[psycosynthesis]

I'm cruising down Williamstown Road,
doing maybe seventy.
My windows are down and my right arm
is hanging from the right one,
tapping an obligatory beat on the door.

A sunday sun's shining beat.
Fingers play imaginary bass and
head nodding, facing the windshield and the
asphalt of the awaiting day.

White lines pass under axles,
minutes and music passes
through my eyes and ears.

Harsh white refraction shines from the traffic.

Blinking,

I change lanes.

 

[New]

I like what you've been doing with the short and sweet. It leaves me imagining the rest of the story for myself.