Three AM Stop

Three AM, the pump was cold,

a story waiting to unfold.

The highway hummed, a distant drone,

leaving me strangely, quite alone.

Artificial light, a stark white glare,

reflecting off the wet night air.

It found each wrapper, damp and grey,

where someone else had tossed away.

No other car, no human sound,

just fuel hissing from the ground.

A moment held, between what's past,

and what slow future comes to last.

Then, click the nozzle, drive away,

from yesterday, to break of day.