The long slow fields come and go in languid succession

the speeding hedgerows, the infinitude of destinations

with their suspicions, lessons to learn. 

 

Inside the car sterile familiarity,

function carrying your body as planned. 

 

Is there a reason I wonder

in that hanging moment between signs, features

of landscape to be subdued, anxiety accepted.

 

It's all a joke really and the punch line

always delivers, leaving us needy again

for the open plain, the country lane

the silly face of the speedo

like a judge in session

always keeping up the uneasy truce.