Sometimes you drive over the Tobin and air is playing and you feel like you used you.. like you can live and breathe and you have lived your whole life listening to loud music alone in that little black car with a bag of your worldly possessions n the passenger seat and the music is loud and sometimes it�s beats and sometimes it�s Wilco and sometimes it�s that music from that guy you used to know but when it�s in that little black car it�s always yours� just like your life..

But today.. like most days- you just got in line and paid the tolls and went to the garage used the pass and parked the little black car. Walking into the building maybe you let out a sigh the dreams fell out of your mind and just littered themselves onto the cement behind you�tiny like sand so no one would notice them when they stepped on them and got them caught in their sneaker treads and walked them even further away from you.

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