Heading

The exit sign was a green blur.

I watched it pass, a steady hum.

The maps are closed, the lines are pure.

I'm waiting for the dark to come.

The blinker clicks a plastic beat.

A metronome inside the door.

I’m driving down a dead-end street

and looking for a little more.

I know the turn was three miles back.

The tank is low, the light is red.

I’m staying on this empty track

with all the things I should have said.