Passed It

I knew when I passed the exit.

Didn't brake.

Just watched the green sign drop

behind me in the rearview

and kept my hands where they were.

Twenty miles of not deciding.

The white lines going under the car,

one after another,

the same line over and over—

the way a sentence you keep rereading

stops meaning anything.

One set of taillights way ahead.

The median grass invisible.

Just the dark and the dashes.

I pulled off at a rest stop

I had no use for.

Parked. Left the engine running.

The lot empty except for a semi

idling at the far end,

its running lights on, going nowhere.

I sat there.

Didn't call anyone.

Didn't need to.

Just needed the road

to not be the driveway yet.

When that stopped being true

I turned around.