Driving in the Night

Driving in the night, passing the symmetrical streetlights, the evenly spaced billboards. Driving in the night, I said, with Ron Bell's made-up face attempting concern. The advertisements enter my line of sight in the most precise manner. Driving in the night, battling with my fellow motorists in rash advancement. The endless asphalt stained with blood, washed by rain, paved and repaved, the Roman road. Driving in the night, my headlights glowing. The city lights expand across the flat distance, informing on life. Driving in the night, bearing the silence. The coyote makes its own music. Driving in the night, obeying a stoplight. Red means stop, white means caution, blue means go. Driving in the night, police cars roaming, rising fear and hate. Dark parking alleys beckon. Driving in the night, past closed shops with electric signs. Dormant buildings waiting for the next business day. Driving at night, morning sneaks from her grudgeful retreat.