Streaks

from worn out wipers

dented cans, plastic wrappers

the glow of a cigarette ****

lying comfortably 
in the ashtray

white knuckles tight

on a weathered wheel

empty roads

cold and black

eyes tired but open

like trucker stops

or roadside diners

with the neons

still on

I keep driving

teetering between

my existence

and a sweet dream

I’d slip into that slumber

if not for the passengers

still fast asleep
in my back seat

So I keep driving

as quiet 
and as lonely

as it may be

I keep driving

because 
somebody

is putting
 their trust
 in me

she cries hearing your name
she cries knowing your not there
she cries at night thinking about you
she cries when she sees your picture
she cries not knowing if your coming home
she cries when she smells your cologne
she cries reading your letters
she cries when she hears your getting deployed
she cries when she hears your going to be gone for a year
she is constantly crying
she is your little sister....