The Guy That Drives Me Here

by Clifford Fyman

The guy that drives me here to exit 4, 7:30 a.m.,
is on his way to work in a mill. “I leave
my brain in the car when I go in there,”
he says. It is a beautiful ride through
green Allegheny hills that has my mouth
watering over its juicy richness. We
are clocking 85 miles per. “This car was
meant to drive fast,” he says, “fuck yeah!”
After everything that makes him
enthusiastic he says, “Fuck yeah!”
Agreeing with me on anything makes him
enthusiastic.
“Going to California? Sounds good,
sounds good. It does look like a nice day,
“fuck yeah!”