Sometime before
eight in the morn
the driver takes
his car to pump four
for a pre-work
gas station coffee break
with three cups or more
of caffeine to take
the fog off
of these early morning
day’s lazy haze.
Then the driver
goes on his way
on the highway.

The highway is a field for
the dead or dying to explore
if they want more
than the daily grind
of nine to four.

The rain watered road
makes the truck driver’s
tires spin with
wet smoke and misty ghosts.

Broke black tread
lay scattered on
the highway bed.

When the road splits
to unknown exits
the driver shifts
but does not
change lane.
Instead,
he follows
the predictably
predestined path
rolling on into
a totally expected
death.