As the cars pass me
I can't help but watch the drivers
Wonder where they're going
Where they're coming from
What they're feeling, thinking
What their click on their dashes read
How I can be them.
I want my clock to match theirs
I want to go where they're going
Feel what they're feeling
And maybe even come from the same place
Why do I feel so out of place?
My clock always seems too fast.

But who is actually normal, of these drivers?

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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