Drive-Thru Window

I wait behind the wheel,
at the drive-thru window,
for my meal.

Do I look high,
blasting an INXS tape,
in my 92 Pontiac,

like I'm a few years late
for the Eighties.
A woman takes my money

looks me up and down,
disappears.
I feel high.

Turn up the volume.
Drum the wheel.
Watch the rain begin.

Twenty-three years ago,
I slid into the world
and Kick hit the charts.

The first year I ever lived,
everything that was
thought already is.

Rungs of wisdom
in every moment.
Why not climb that

see-through ladder.
Transcend power.
The window opened up.

I reached to grab my fountain cup.
Hit the glass of in between.
I put it there to block the rain.

Now I know,
I do look high.
Grab the wheel and wave goodbye.