By Thomas Page

The highway is beautiful at night
With a sea of red tail lights
And glare reflecting off signs.

The night driver tries to stay awake
While the rhythm of the blacktop
Soothes them to a requiem.

Music plays over the radio
With a dial turned to an even number
And the heater somewhere in between.

The night driver wants to be anywhere else.
They have been behind the wheel for far too long
And their feet start to tire.

The numbers slowly count down
To the border officially declared
By men miles and years away in a board room.

The night driver doesn’t know where they are
And they don’t care.
They just want to be in their destination.

The biome of right here, right now
Constantly changes by the car
With various flora and fauna.

The night driver rolls their neck
And tries to readjust their seat
As they hurdle down the road.

The moon looks over the scene
And blesses it with faint light.
Balancing Tenebrae and Umbrae

The night driver, unaware of this,
Sees pure darkness ahead of them.
Hoping to find a familiar light.

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