poem

Driving the highway home

at night from Washington, DC

to Fredericksburg,

the heavy traffic snakes in the dark

along on unseen paths.

Northbound, a diamond necklace of headlights,

and southbound poured out like rubies

on a blanket of black velvet.

Day time around town

I see the cars like pooh sticks

flowing under the overpasses. 

In my bedroom

when its really quiet,

two am, awake,

staring at the clock I can hear it,

trucks grinding, the low constant hum,

a river with insomnia.