BUCKET SEAT SIMPLICITY

 

The setting of my life is anticlimactically

on the bucket seat of a truck lately.

This time I looked at him and asked him

why he loved me so.

I just do

Not enough, I thought.

Why do you love me?

Long awkward pause.

I guess it’s your passion for life.

I stare at the window in front of me.

I’ll take it

I say.

What a euphemism, I thought.