driver
is in a rush, she swerves
to get around
me,
flashing her lights,
beeping
her horn.
she has quotas to meet,
i guess.
she's in her own car,
but wearing
the vest,
so i know it's official.
she looks
tired
and angry when i look
at her face
in the rear view
mirror.
her white knuckles
gripping
the wheel.
she's in a rush, hitting
the speed bums
in loud
thumps as she passes me
in a flash,
finally stopping
in front of my house,
where she carries to my
porch
a tiny plastic bag
full of fountain
pens.
which she takes a picture of,
then hits
send.
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