or the phantom of an idea--
more of a suggestion of a road
illuminated by two feeble headlights--
stretches unknowingly, unforeseeably on.
the truck ahead follows its own path,
leaving in its wake a cigarette
bouncing off the pavement;
a swirling trail of sparks dancing urgently
on the road-- then passed.
fireflies sparkle in the cornfields; earthly
stargazing made possible--
an old barn stands patiently among the constellations.
the drone of the engine is the only sound
save the occasional gust of wind
rolling through the corn, across fields
around houses, buffeting the car--
a gentle reminder to keep alert--
those unspoken, invisible ditches aren't
too far or too hard to find.
the drive itself uneventful, monotonous
yet peaceful. even comforting.
those twinkling fireflies and old
diesel trucks rattling past
allow an understanding of the
timelessness of the road;
of roads traveled long before.
roads yet to be traveled.
the destination not important
as much as the getting there--
this endless temporary journey
down a darkened road only visible to
those with its memory still silhouetted
in their tired eyes.
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