There is something about the darkness,
and waiting. Hands folded silently,
eyes down(cast), lights and heat off
to save gas. The pattern of headlights
doesn’t veer from the steady westward
steering of cars onto the interstate.
Hoping trends to anxiety, though
the feeling of your fingertips is almost
real. The shadows splay themselves,
fluid and rapid and without discretion.
I exhale, and patiently watch for variation.