Back To Poetry Poem by Clyde Cruz

A long drive, hour and a half.5 in the morning.
Alone on my side of the road, a hundred cars on the other.
Am I going the wrong way?
They're going somewhere.
'If this road runs out, I'll turn behind them.'

But then appeared 3 cars behind me.
I don't feel so alone anymore.

But one turned a corner, the next on another until I was alone again on my side of the road.
They didn't have to drive as far it seems.
On houses I passed, cars stayed untouched. Either arrived or never started.
A car came in front of me. The first one in a while.

But he sped ahead of me, I tried to catch up to him, but I couldn't.
The car gone on a curb. Vague tracks on the road.
This drive ends wrapped on a tree, maybe a sunrise.

But the fog lifted on the world and the poet. I played the music back on.