My best intensions are clogging the drain pipe

Written by

Risers – Can’t Get There From Here

Somewhere on the crater moon surface of the icy Dallas road system, my windshield squirters gave out, leaving my wipers to manically smear salt and snow across my field of vision. Every time I stopped for gas, I left the wipers on and splashed blue fluid out of a giant clear bottle onto the windshield, temporarily clearing my view.

I used to fastidiously calculate gas mileage; I used to promptly secure oil changes; I used to rotate my tires. But lately everything’s gotten a bit sloppy. I’m shivering out in the middle of winter, splashing bottles of what looks like blue drink over the front of my car, spilling down my pea coat and jeans. I’m haphazardly taking wrong turns down roads leading away from where I presumably want to go. I’m overpaying for rent and not paying for insurance.

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