endless blind of headlights
traverse the rain slaughtered pavement
each with another destination
another day to travel
another hour to go
just thirty minutes till I find home.

the highway's like oil
black backwash from the earth
evidence of the land's sickness
drawing me in
taking me underground
past dirt and dust
beyond rock and stone
below the oceans
to some sense of central
where everything is the same
just as it really is
sliding into oil and cement
and the tyranny of a yellow line
with so little give.

but down here the sky is burning
just like it will one day on the other side
of the time where I lost my mind
we humans can't help
but hope to turn around
in a flamed world
and hope to see someone else
standing there
just to be not alone.