I am a driver, halting at stop signs;

only staying briefly at each one. 

I am concentrated on a single mysterious destination.

And perhaps I veer off the road 

running into a stop sign and leaving a mark

while I go along shaken and yet unscathed.

And perhaps those encounters continue 

until one day I look at myself,

noticing all the marks they've left behind.

I could look back and try to remember

which scratch I got from where.

I could, but it would be a waste of time. 

And perhaps I do try to remember,

bringing back countless images of identical stop signs.

And perhaps I remember a few dents I've left

until I come back to this one apathetic realization:

Stop signs are just stop signs and they're all just the same.