Hearse

I was driving through the bridge on the way home from work, exhausted from the mind gymnastics performed that day. Little thought came and went, my sore eyes had enough juice to stay within the lines and away from the aggressive drivers of that day. The subconscious had taken over, my body, on autopilot, coasted a few feet above the waters of Tampa Bay.

He passed me on the right, another exhausted mind in an unimpressive car trying to get home as well. Until I realized that this particular car was a hearse, an automotive contraption designed to take people on their last rides on Earth. Not my first time seeing one of these, by far. If one is above twenty-five years old it is highly likely that you have chased one of these once or twice to the cemetery. And yet, because my conscious mind was unobstructed by other tasks, it wondered what it would be like to be the driver of that car, the conduit between realms, the carrier of forgotten memories.

This simple poem came from there, from the thought that we will all be there some day; the inescapable truth of the future that awaits all of us that draw breath today.

Someday, I will take that last ride as well.

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