red moon presides
over a harvest-cold sky,
a right light
for the night drivers
fortress trucks
scream speed
from behind their running lights,
knowing they will never
run out of road
and the car drivers,
gunning hard to steam past,
rejoice in the easy swoosh
of smooth blacktop,
the lull of the radio,
and the sweet nirvana
of just going
over a harvest-cold sky,
a right light
for the night drivers
scream speed
from behind their running lights,
knowing they will never
run out of road
and the car drivers,
gunning hard to steam past,
rejoice in the easy swoosh
of smooth blacktop,
the lull of the radio,
and the sweet nirvana
of just going
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