Every car that passes is another let down.
Is this why I run so far?
There is only so much distance
I can put between myself.
My skin is heated by the
High sun alone in space.
Traffic slugs along as
I wiz by.
He says that I really have
Nothing to say and I can't
Quite find the correct place
To disprove his argument.
There is so little that someone
Else hasn't said before me.
But I can't quite stop myself
From whispering words that
Have been shouted with
Bras blazing and groins hairy.
I don't quite see what's wrong
In being afraid of losing myself
To being a slave to an out-dated idea
Of Man being served by Wife.
