Numbers on Glass

(spoken

soft) ...numbers on the glass.

I used to drive with my hands tied back,

eyes on the mirror,

reading skid marks for a map.

Every answer came a day too late

— history pretending to navigate.

(a day too late)

Now the windshield's talking,

quiet and green,

little gold arrows saying where things haven't been...

yet.

Same road, same car,

same night

— but the future's printed on the glass in soft light.

And it's numbers on the glass,

palms going past, Venice in the amber,

nothing moving fast. I don't guess anymore — I just glance and

I know:

the HUD shows me where it all will go.

(where it all will go)

There's a name for the feeling,

I looked it up: it's called seeing — most dashboards never do

enough.

They tell you what happened.

Mine tells me what's next.

Green for the rising.

Gold for the rest.

(gold for the rest)

Backspegel för historiker.

Vindruta för förare. Same data.

Different

mercy.

Numbers on the glass,

palms going past, the ocean on the left and the lag arrows

cast. Twenty minutes to midnight and I already know

— the HUD shows me where it all will go.

(spoken, almost a smile)

...green means rising. — And everything's green.