Whoop

Sometimes when I’m driving along

the window down, wind winnowing my hair,

the sun giving me the thumbs up,

I break out in spontaneous whoops of joy.

No, I don’t have Tourette’s.

I haven’t won the Lottery.

I’m just laughing zebra happy,

turning cartwheels happy,

walking on my hands happy.

It’s infectious. I whoop some more.

You wouldn’t want to be a passenger.

27 thoughts on “Whoop

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