Panera Bread gives no days off,
no fake sick days of water-tower fame,
no Michigan Avenue Beatles musical
where the world joins in for the sake of spontaneity.
Turkey and Swiss smell less romantic
than sprinting home with five minutes to spare,
or saving our friends from abject misery.
Just coughing up nostalgia,
I recall the vibration of
a leather steering wheel.
Should have driven somewhere new,
when we still had time, still had mileage.