seasick, docked

i am wearing faded black 505's, a navy blue "hapiness is" bar t-shirt, a brown belt with my name "timothy" etched into the leather, and white tennis shows. i have a moustache. i play softball.

i am old and feeble. liver spots scatter across my face. i don't notice that my mouth is gaping open. nor do i register the string of drool stretching from my my tongue, which resting on top of my teeth, to my top set of teeth. i am hunched forward gripping the steering wheel tightly. i wait patiently at the intersection. i am sure it is not my turn. nothing is happening. what am i doing here.