The road a grey ribbon gone

The road, a grey ribbon gone,

swallowing the horizon.

My eyes flicked up, against my will,

and there it was, still.

That flat, silvered face,

streaked with dust, or rain, or time.

My own stare, hollowed out, erased

of some old line, some bright, sharp mime.

But then, behind the current me,

a ghost of something else, a look

I thought I'd buried, deep and free.

A younger snarl, a promise took.

It blurred with speed, this past that stared.

I gripped the wheel. It wouldn't hold.

The road stretched on, a new despair.

The face receded, growing old.