Morning Food

Another morning trip.
Food at six am.
Cars in other lanes moving in and out in a hazy way that gives me the creeps.
Why does this look like a movie?
Is this a movie?
In the passenger seat I sit.
I’m not hostile.
The driver is.
We brake at the drive through.
What is that? Who are you? What do you want? Just give me my order.
$6.66.
What was that? Why? Should I put something back? We ask.
How my packages of salt? We need the luck.
How may?
As many as it takes.
No one can forgive me for all the people I put in the ground.
It was time to leave and there was no salt in sight.