Driving at Night

Samantha Godwin

The spreading tide of asphalt

awash in the flow of darkness

and pelican flashes of headlights

dipping across the surface.

It is so light and so dark you don’t know where you are.

You are the world’s bookmark,

slipped between pages

but separate from the words.

You could easily slip out,

out from the road and the dark woods

and the stuttering eyes of passing cars.

You lift your hands from the wheel,

the seat of their control.

The truth is that there is no control.

You can close your eyes and suck your teeth

and still hurtle down the interstate.

You can keep a steady grip and feel your blood

thrum to the rhythm of rubber and road

and still crash.

God lays out the Ley lines.

We merely start the car.