Nighttime falls like a bitter fog
pulling the warmth from my limbs.
The horizon crests through the windshield
of my paychecks.
Dotting the landscape past a sign marked "Scenic View"
a conglomeration of all the Light Brights,
every child has ever used.
Pace myself with the drones to my right,
and idly remember to "stay between the lines."
Stars begin to stir in their beds,
just in time to be outshone.
By an eighteen-wheeler and its heavy payload.
Empty trees screaming by,
some bad B movie stuck on rewind.
Meetings and classes
Lack of pay
for dealing with unappreciative asses
Somewhere behind me
My future awaits
Surrounded in columns of concrete and steel
His morning holds
A similar deal
White on green, green on white
The "Scenic View" blends into the night
Not much to see
Nowhere important to go
So speed on by
And promise I'll visit
Some other time…
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