A delivery driver's lament

The driver’s seat is the loneliest place

In the world.

Stained upholstery acts as

An echo chamber

Of empty pop songs and radio voices

And forced happy.

She sits in another car,

Legs crossed,

Winding circles around me while I

sit.

sit.

sit.

That’s all I ever do.

Sit.

In the loneliest place in the world.