Midnight Gallon

The hum of the fluorescent lights

above the empty pumps.

A single car, mine, pulling in,

a silent crunch of gravel.

The attendant behind glass,

a blur of tired movement.

I watch the numbers spin,

the cold nozzle heavy in my hand.

Reflected light on a patch of oil,

a warped, yellow star on the asphalt.

Just me, the quiet drone of the freezer case,

and the long drive home from somewhere else.

No one here to know my name.