Divine Intersection

¿& why don’t you want to drive into that truck?

He wasn’t sure whence the voice came–but it came. His ears could clearly hear it.

That didn’t mean he had to listen to it, though.

‘Twas a dry street in a desert sun, though the street wasn’t deserted, but filled with buildings & summer crowds.

Though he didn’t know whence came the voice, he knew what it was. & he knew ’twas safer to ignore it–e’en though he had to admit the itchiness o’ his fingers o’er the steering wheel to swing rightward into that damn truck that ne’er went ‘way.

But he had vital business in which to attend: he had a nephew to save.


Psychoanalyst, Theism, Truck