I was always on the road,

on the road through different towns,

through endless routes from A to B

and B to C and back to A

tight lipped in automobilitic flight,

on lonely motorways,

struggling to stay awake,

the long hard lights hypnotising me,

 

and sometimes, often, there would be

a stretch of houses in intimate night

eyeless uncharacteristic blocks

whose sleeping ones knew nothing

of me within my metal box.

 

I often wondered about those souls,

of how I would never see them 

nor sense within their beating bodies

the dreams, while I survived those flights

and went from A to B,

and B to C

and back to A again.