The oncoming cars are smart.
They know more than me.
They know where they are going.
I do not.
I could be moving further away
and I could be moving closer.
To what I do not know.
I blink in time with the wipers.
I follow the center line.
I pass endless oncoming eyes.
They stare behind their windshields.
My only direction comes from the road.
I just go.
A noiseball wrapped in metal.
Don't be a mouse, be a lion
