Rush
I wrote
a poem once
about the darkness
outside my headlights
I tried to convey
how small you feel
on a country road
at night
How your half-sphere
of light moves
through the blackness
at sixty miles per hour
You don’t feel
that way
on city streets
with lights and apartments
You need the summer night
outside your headlights
to be alive with frogs
and restlessly sleeping birds
to feel that way
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