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.