Miles of Static

Remember that cross-country drive?

Eight hours crammed in my beat-up sedan.

Everyone loud, singing along to tapes

I’d swear I’d never heard.

The windows fogged up,

their laughter a thick blanket

I couldn’t cut through.

I watched the highway lights

blur into one long smear

on the glass.

They were sharing stories,

inside jokes, elbow nudges,

and I was just there,

a passenger in my own head,

miles away from anything.