Random longhorn browsing snow,
Contrail over the moon roof,
I am whatever you are
Busy surprising me with,
And I am the sensation
Of surprise, helpless wonder
At the ways I am surprised.
A truck pulls in front of me,
Having just hesitated
Long enough to make me think
The driver was sensible.
Apparently not. I am
That driver and this driver,
Blaring horns, the morning glare.
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