The Line

I saw the exit sign too late

and kept driving past it.

The white lines on the road blurred

into one long mark, and I followed it

because stopping meant making a decision

about where to go.

The car ahead had red taillights.

I watched them, hypnotized,

as if following them meant I wasn't

driving at all, just being pulled

forward by something I didn't choose.

The darkness beyond the headlights

was absolute. No landmarks.

Just the road telling me where to go

and me, unable to stop following.

I should have turned around.

I should have known where I was going.

Instead I kept driving,

watching the white lines repeat,

the red lights ahead getting no closer,

and the darkness staying dark.