Morning After

by krstaten

How foolish we are,
laying out our hopes like maps
upon the dashboard.

All that comes at us
is rain upon the windshield.
All gray, everything.

Today the headlights
are all that’s facing forward.
Not enough light, but

we drive anyway,
knowing this road will curve back
on itself again

a hundred more times
before it’s over. We drive
anyway, head on

into the thunder.
Buckle up. Call your best friends.
Tell them we’re coming.

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