a narrow stretch of highway
a narrow stretch of highway. one mile in five must be straight. useful as a runway in case of invasion. here in this three-a.m. car. my equilibrium detects straightness in the expected ratio. i'd open my eyes if it made a difference. i'd open my eyes if it were still possible. i'm wide awake. as wide as the desert. as rough and dry as the road. some things are irresistible. the highway lures me like circular thoughts. such circles are hard to break. i'm trapped in a logical loop. your eyes are soft-brown. your eyes are those that seduced me before. when they belonged to another woman. if i opened my eyes i would see three-a.m. hills. they would be black outlines against a dim sky. curious how land is darker than heaven even at night. i'm afraid i'll see an animal with eyes that glow without a source to reflect. when the sun rises i'll open my eyes. i expect to hear a greeting and a quip. something about beauty-sleep being ineffective. i expect to see the sun and road reflected in your eyes. i expect to be closer to where we're going.

©1999 Timothy A. Clark