You will find yourself on the corner, waiting. Turning and waiting. No one will come and you'll still be waiting. Why? I don't understand it either and I won't bother to try. You'll drive halfway down the street and your hatch will fly open. No one will honk (this time). Although, they would like to. You'll stop. See a guy mulling over some garbage along the side of the road where the Canadian Tire once was. Now what is that he's found? A lovely flat dehydrated and squished grey squirrel. "Pick it up". Nah, I think he found a loonie.
signed, the willow
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