unintentionally, I've made habit of waiting
until the highway clears out,
leaving nothing but sandy semis
and gritty grizzled men smoking and steering
Staring dead-eyed through sleepless deadlines
to make my way home alone.

Watching infinite dashes pass through my peripheral, separating me from
passenger-less lanes,
perpetually pondering present pessimism
as pale streaks slur by
enough to white out every word
I spoke and you never heard.

C.e.M
April 15, edit April 19 2016