Rivers

There's wet splatters on the windowsill The windshield's streaked with rivers Tires roll over puddles Sounds of water sticking to the rubber My head feels heavy from the echoes.

There's silence but it's riddled with holes The tears flowing apparently not justified Announcements sound now Pausing my typing to compose myself Pauses feel so cumbersome and lonely.

There's just us in a line waiting The row of cars are going forwards Maybe I should finish This has happened so many times before So I can for sure endure just a little more. Dear Mrs. Tatiana: