so far away

the slush
of night. the pound of wipers
as the trucks
roll
by so close.
the snarl of traffic.
the dotted lines
of the wet road.
the wind
seering through
the cracked window
as the radio plays
carol king.
the destination so far away,
our head lights
muddled
in the falling sleet,
our bones
weary, our eyes tired
and red.
we dream of sleep.
we dream
of sleep. so much road
behind us,
so much more to go.