The midnight highway
Is a symphony,
Each blaring car horn
A bell to tow you home
When you’d really
Rather not go.
Miles tunnel behind,
Vague, whispering hillsides
Pushing the wild of their weeds
Against flashy neon billboards,
And all those plastic-paper worlds,
A perfection nothing of you:
An anonymous in spinning wheels.
All the bright, angelic omens
Of on-coming headlights,
Kindred souls touching the earth space
Of one another in a quick passing
Between the veil of dark and metal,
Someone you might have loved
Had you known them
In the flesh and pupil, hair and hands;
Only, now you’ll never know.
And sometimes between
Mountain peaks and tired trees,
The moon might wink
A solemn stare
Into your pre-lit dashboard,
Across the velvet of your seats
Where you hover somewhere
Between this surreal night-time dream
And the reality of waking up,
All ten-knuckled and too tired
To care which way
The next road-sign leads,
Only that, inevitably,You’re still going somewhere.
Written from a prompt at Magpie Tales.