The Glitching Hour

Clearing skies confound the eye with diffusing light
wet highway glaring with tiny rainbows
dancing white pinpoint galaxies rising
as the late and fading day gilds the road before us.

One last glance contains all that sustains
one last moment reclaimed against time,
only to plunge once more into the flow
heavy traffic heady static automatic
clamped against one another, jostling
for jockey’s rankings among freeway bandits
or bagging bragging rights on the old highway.

Cracked brake lights loom, encroaching night
as the shadows gather and grow taller
the road winds down by hidden waters
restively nestled between stone cliffs
and dynamite drifts, hacked through ridges
with nail and claw and diamond saws
“A new way to waste time in every lane”.

Ascent at last, through the mountain’s veil
a cotton shawl of clinging mist
plunging into soup-thick ignorance seeking
the enticing mile-stone, the eternal next bend
around every corner, another barren stretch
where nothing changes and nothing remains
brushing dust from the final page.

Forever and throughout the night, driving in silence
over the horizon and into the shrouded distance.

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