Red Dots Fade

The radio was just static then, or some

country song I didn't know the words to.

Left the dinner table, the cold plates,

the arguments still hanging in the air

like old cigarette smoke.

Just kept driving.

The world shrunk to this tunnel,

the white lines blurring under the glare

of my own lights, a hypnotic pulse.

Red dots ahead, other cars, other lives,

flickered and vanished, like stars

dropping off the edge of the known.

Just the hum of the tires,

a constant, low growl.

The roadside signs, green blurs,

unreadable promises of exits

I didn't need to take. Just going,

forward into the dark, nowhere in particular,

just away from the quiet of home.