Dentists R Weird

 Patter, Patter, Patter, Rain slips down the side of it, The thin glass door, So, people can see the books. Perchance one red cover Or a delicate illustration Will catch someone’s eye.   Tatters, Tatters, Tatters, They daydream, that they are on display. But to the folks passing by on their way to work They are only there, Forever waiting for someone.   Click, click, click, The lock turns, slides, and drops, The door swings agape. Hobo books in a row, Trying to smile up at you. Someone cared enough to line them up neatly.   Life, life, life, Giddy hands reach toward the books, Riffling through, Perhaps, maybe, possibly, One of the orphans would be needed, would be going home. 

  A blue car glides next to ours, catching my eye. Though only one of the many cars on the highway, it’s one of the few bright blue cars on the highway. It’s next to us but slightly behind us so, looking back, I can see the front of the driver. There’s only one man in the car, he looks young, but no younger than 18. He drives with one hand while holding his phone up to his face with the other. He must be on a phone call. He holds his head high, and slightly back, like he’s trying hard to stay focused on his driving while listening whatever the person is saying. I can tell he is having trouble with this. His face is slightly flushed, his eyes a bit puffy, he looks like he’s on the verge of tears. He grips his phone, I can’t hear what’s being said, we are separated not only by the two different cars we drive in, but by our two separate lives, completely different, only crossing this once. His mouth moves, in sorrow he cries out. The sound jailed by the walls of his car, no one can h...