Envelope

Weak knuckles at 10 and 2
Down some unpredictable backroad
He’s redlining the Camry
He’ll never brake in time

The tears pour down your eyes
Staining yellow-tinged letters
From a much more primitive time
When you used to be mine

Envelope in hand
back and forth like a handheld fan
You can’t turn this car around
But you can drive forward where it pleases you

This carefree man smiles back at him
It haunts him every day
Some beat up old polaroid
The man that you used to be

Envelope in hand
waving it like a handheld fan
Feet up on the dash
He doesn’t care where he’s going
If it isn’t where he’s come from