You know our hearts beat time they're waiting for something that'll never arrive

Franklin smelled like a stogy last week.  I don't know why.  Driving through the center of town, past Devitas, I smelled a stogy, and thought it was coming from the psuedo-Italian men working at Deviats at 10:30 at night, mopping up the deli floor, but when I stopped at the stop lights in front of St. Mary's church, I still smelled stogies.  

I'm riding my bike.  Sometimes I get migraines afterwards, sometimes I don't.  There is no rhyme or reason to it.   I've conducted so many experiments on myself while riding.  I have an appointment August 5 with a neurologist.  This neurologist is supposed to be really good.  The office sent me a packet of information about migraines, neurology, etc, and a packet of information about my migraines that I need to fill out before arriving on August 5, and I have to bring a copy of my MRI.  At the other neurologist I went to, I didn't have to do any of that.  I think I got the ghetto migraine treatment.

I want to know what people are thinking when they leave their Dunkin Donuts iced coffee cups on the side of the roads.  I've been keeping track on every ride.  While I am riding my bike, I see medium sized ice coffee cups sitting inside the white lines on streets. They have remnants of cream and sugar, tinted with a little bit of coffee sitting at the bottom of the cup, tilted, spilling over onto the white line, or into a pothole.  There are more Dunkin Donuts iced coffee cups on the side of the road than any other kind of litter.  In fact, I bet there are more Dunkin Donuts iced coffee cups than old condom wrappers, empty bottles of water, McDonald's cheeseburger wrappers, and empty soda bottles combined.  The side of the road is not a trash barrel.