L.I.E.

the line runs right straight down the middle
like teeth in a shattered white column
stark against the monochrome grey carpet
that points east and west
like the finger of god
unrolling like parchment and marked by the glow
of our headlights and the curl of exhaust
and geometric signs of unknown significance
that blur like the moon when it shines on the water
and they waver and fade with our growing momentum
sliding over the glass before us like watercolors
spilled across a canvas
as we glide through the night with
no real direction while
our twin beams of light map an uneven trajectory
and he taps the accelerator like a gentle suggestion
grinning and running the gauntlet of traffic
with a jerk of the wheel and a shout from behind
from a car horn objecting to our movement
with outraged indignance
though the sound of their protest is lost as we
plunge through a low narrow tunnel
and out the other side
is the same navy sky and the same ivory moon
and nothing has changed and the road
goes by faster with every sharp turn
where the concrete meets earth like the
ocean meets sand
in a seam of two fabrics or a meeting of minds
or the fusion of twisted metal from
gut-turning wrecks that we leave in the distance
rolling behind us with faded tire tracks
to mark their existence
ignored in the back of our minds and forgotten
while other sorrows and more brightness
lies before us at that point on the horizon
which disappears into infinity like the dot
at the bottom of a giant question mark
and drops off the edge of the world without a parachute
and the radio blares through the window
that gapes like an open mouth
fixed in a scream and we change lanes again
adrift in the sprawling river of asphalt with the
dark wind breathing over our faces like spoken words
and over and over the scratched pavement thread
we swerve and evade and
accelerate forward into the black sky
traversing broken lines and
smiling as we casually break the speed limit