Slanting and slowing down the exit ramp
From the insane freeway, I am submerged
In the quiet past midnight, a lone lamp
In dark eyes of passing cottages; streets purged
Of traffic; summer leaves nesting streetlights;
The only sound my own tires on tar.
Suddenly I’m recalling other nights,
When children slept in the back of my car
Sandy and sunburned after a long day’s joy.
My window’s open, but the silent night warms.
Time itself now rolls as God’s rounded toy.
A stray cat stretches streetlight shadow-forms
Heading out, as I head home through monotones,
Surprised to see me in lanes that it owns.