I like driving at night
indigo nights in the odd hours of the morning
my tired eyes adjust to the rhythm of the traffic
a slow fluid, tempo, melting into soft orange lights
cars slip in and out of my consciousness
the street illuminated in artificial glows
and manufactured air fills my lungs
forming goosebumps on my skin
my eyes are growing weary
the radio static, constant
tuned to 91.3
plays liquid jazz
dewdrops on my weary mind
and my pulse fills the empty spaces in the bassline
the music melts into the rhythm
the soft lull of the engine humming
the crescendo and decrescendo of tires on pavement
a lullaby
the reflectors twinkle on street
like artificial stars
and the highway-- a tangle of progress
unravels before me
my eyes slip into a dream
I like driving at night
but one day I won't