My boss asks, “Do you have your license?”
and ten minutes later I’m cruising Queen Street
with the windows down and the radio screaming
as papers-in-hand he wanders around
the tall, white government building
like a purposeful ant.
The sunshine soaks into my eyes like madness
and I lean out the window to grin and wave
at the bustling China Town crowd.
This is a good day -- let the radio play what it will.
I don’t know what kind of car this is
but it’s more expensive than any I’ll ever own
and my job is to keep it moving so I move it.