Distracted

The phone will rattle in your cup holder, knock around spare change. Do not take your hands off the wheel. Do not pay it mind. You know it will be your friend or your boyfriend or your mother, but it is not as important as you would like to believe. Watch for red octagons, yellow triangles, blinking lights, and bumpers. Do not distract yourself with questions about what is waiting for you, 180 characters or less. They do not want to see your face on the news, your mangled body thrown from the car blood splattered across pavement like a new rendition of Pollock. If it is that important, park to the side of the road, check your fancy gadget, make what call you need. Do not become the newest Pollock or demented Goya, or battle-torn Bacon. Your life is more than a picture in a newspaper, your existence is more than two dates, more than what your friends could say while crying. You are more important than 180 characters.