Listening to Love Songs with My Uber Driver

Another crazy day jam packed with scheduled tweets and aggregated mush that will surely decapitate the cells I rely on for mental reinforcement.

Until, that happens, I have a late night date with Uber.

As usual, my location provides temporary confusion even though the address couldn’t be simpler.

Nevertheless the pickup transpires.

Back seat is taken. Front seat is mine.

The couple behind me insist on getting me to guess the genesis of their costumes.

I pretend to guess.

They get tired and confess they are Bart and Marge Simpson.

I lie and tell them how smashing they look.

They get dropped off first.

I am left alone with the driver and I take a closer look.

He’s youngish and cute.

We joke about how funny his former passengers looked.


Well, no, not quite.

The radio is on. Song after song insinuates that love is not that far away. It’s right here where we belong

In a Toyota Prius with my address lighted up for directions.

To where we belong.

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