I drive.
Each night passes by
cold shadows
tell no lies,
by flicker strangely
like specters
dying before me.
The road is mine
and I am its,
possessed by quiet reflections.
Daylight finds
hills that ride
and roll
up and down
all around me.
Stimulants,
set to see me
safely home,
little nicotine sticks,
not actual cigarette
of vapes
but gas station
electronic
devices,
stacked with
lots of caffeine.
Music and podcasts,
audio books
play by to fast,
they never seem to last,
because the drive never ends.
Hotels,
hot showers,
more caffeine
then overtime hours.
Until,
they settle me down
to one worksite
and that rogue
road work life
fades fast behind me.
Part of me misses
the unpredictable madness.
Part of me is grateful
for the stability.
Its healthy
cause I get better sleep.
Now I drive the same route
every **** day,
but I miss the strangeness
of the different roads
I used to take.