I do my deep thinking on a rusty chair
By the ocean with no cell phone service.
Yesterday, I remembered the runaway truck,
Plowing through a spent cornfield
Just east of my childhood.
Didn’t scream back then,
I was young with time
To right the ship.
Now that I’m old,
I sit on this rusty chair
And laugh at all the times I did scream
And no one heard me,
Just like no one hears me now.