
Lamp Post

Headlights mark another highway like mismatched string lights. Lines of solemn beams endlessly cascading together to form vibrant clusters against the skyline... Eventually becoming nothing but hazy blurs in the growing distance... Until consumed by darkness... And gone from sight.
Beauty is raindrops on my windshield collecting pigments from wet street lights... Projecting a palate of neon colors into a very bitter dreary night.
Tonight I drive alone. Blaring music on black roads and following lights from wet neon signs... Trying to focus on every single lyric... To every single song... That we both know.
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