Midnight Fill

Two AM and the highway hum

is all that’s left of passing day.

This isolated spot has come

to save me from the dark’s decay.

The pump clicks on, a sudden hiss,

a sickly yellow light cascades.

The asphalt sweats, I can’t dismiss

the smell of oil and fading trades.

Just coffee, black and strong and cheap,

to keep the engine of my head

from sputtering out in drowsy sleep.

Another mile, another dread.