We sat there for several hours The wind squeezed its way into the car Through the slightly cracked open window It made a whistling sound, like Thomas, the building site worker, Used to make whenever high school girls in skirts passed by Oblivious to his hungry, wolflike stare, surprising Isn’t it, she said, suddenly breaking the silence,  How little is there left to say, and I nodded in agreement Watching the end credits roll down my car windshield image @…