I careen across
the pavement
like a scream
at seventy-miles-an-hour
wondering when
I'll hit midnight
and if she'll smell
like burned tires
and tar.
I inhale the
desperation
of twenty other headlights
pointed into
the same
blackness
as I,
and I marvel at
our senseless comradery
facing down
our lurching demons
through a fog
of fumes.
