The Vagueness Of Night Travel Poem by Maynard Hartman
The Vagueness Of Night Travel
He slammed the hood down,
was like a judge with a gavel.
I felt the tug of my string—
beginning to unravel.
Attendant started to sing,
as my tires spun gravel.
Down the dark way—
I began to travel.
What does one say
to oneself on the way
of an uncertain journey
down a desert highway.
How does one hide
from those things on the side
of a lonely dark
highway night ride.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/30/2026 2:38:09 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
