we mustn't expect the established order to establish order, because its 'justice' is blind because it is blind.
I first noticed you noticing me. Startled was I to discover your gaze meeting my own, given that I was on the side of the highway, walking.
You were on your cell phone (shocker) and seemed to be applying some sort of eye liner while also driving. No doubt you had the radio blasting and given all these details thus far, a high probability of a unstrapped toddler loafing somewhere in the backseat. If I had to guess, I would say the father was less delinquent as he was indeterminable.
The front tires of your car must have begun to hit the rumble strips as your head jerked up just in time to avoid flattening me.
You would have thought that: several blinking signs, the large, highly visible Corrections bus and several of us wearing orange jump suits would have alerted you that someone besides yourself was on the highway yesterday.
But let us not quibble my little Letty Ortiz. For in that intense moment of mutually assured vehicular manslaughter, our eyes met. I was thinking, if she doesn't kill me, I'd like to share the rest of my paroled life with her. Not so much the kid though.
Yes, in those 2.3 seconds ---- I connected with you. Almost with the same white hot intensity that the FBI connected with my front door several flash-bangs and months ago, which is to say, you shattered my world.
I'm sorry you over corrected, veered into oncoming traffic, side swiped a guard rail and lost the rear bumper. It also, at least from my vantage point, appeared that a small person in the back seat came flying up and into the windshield.
The way I see it, kid learned a valuable lesson that day. One of which being that mommy hides lots of odd shaped bottles under the seats. Its exactly those kind of lessons that made me into the man I am today.
Sadly, the fact that I was part of a work release chain gang severely hindered any attempt to come to your assistance but I thought of you as I picked up refuse all along 65 South. Judging by the expired tags, it was probably wise for you to leave as quickly as you did. No doubt your heart ached at not being able to get my visitation schedule memorized. I know, baby doll. I know...
So, tell me what DOC number was on my shirt and what color my eyes are seeing that, yes, you were that fucking close.
I love you! Barring an extended sentence, I would like to see you in 3-5.
N.
I first noticed you noticing me. Startled was I to discover your gaze meeting my own, given that I was on the side of the highway, walking.
You were on your cell phone (shocker) and seemed to be applying some sort of eye liner while also driving. No doubt you had the radio blasting and given all these details thus far, a high probability of a unstrapped toddler loafing somewhere in the backseat. If I had to guess, I would say the father was less delinquent as he was indeterminable.
The front tires of your car must have begun to hit the rumble strips as your head jerked up just in time to avoid flattening me.
You would have thought that: several blinking signs, the large, highly visible Corrections bus and several of us wearing orange jump suits would have alerted you that someone besides yourself was on the highway yesterday.
But let us not quibble my little Letty Ortiz. For in that intense moment of mutually assured vehicular manslaughter, our eyes met. I was thinking, if she doesn't kill me, I'd like to share the rest of my paroled life with her. Not so much the kid though.
Yes, in those 2.3 seconds ---- I connected with you. Almost with the same white hot intensity that the FBI connected with my front door several flash-bangs and months ago, which is to say, you shattered my world.
I'm sorry you over corrected, veered into oncoming traffic, side swiped a guard rail and lost the rear bumper. It also, at least from my vantage point, appeared that a small person in the back seat came flying up and into the windshield.
The way I see it, kid learned a valuable lesson that day. One of which being that mommy hides lots of odd shaped bottles under the seats. Its exactly those kind of lessons that made me into the man I am today.
Sadly, the fact that I was part of a work release chain gang severely hindered any attempt to come to your assistance but I thought of you as I picked up refuse all along 65 South. Judging by the expired tags, it was probably wise for you to leave as quickly as you did. No doubt your heart ached at not being able to get my visitation schedule memorized. I know, baby doll. I know...
So, tell me what DOC number was on my shirt and what color my eyes are seeing that, yes, you were that fucking close.
I love you! Barring an extended sentence, I would like to see you in 3-5.
N.
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