You can\'t sleep
Your eyelids hang heavy
Like an umbrella sinking to a close without locking
The van you lay in has sunk on its flat tires
The windows are mere wooden frames
Druid sunsets caress the black and saturated road it sits by
Displaying an endless evening horizon embellished with stars
You are the sole and consistently lit street-lamp, vintage
Pressing and illuminating silent destinations
All branching from where you are now
The storm wants to play
On your devotion to the trek
Breaking dreams across melodies of short circuits and squeaking
Your willingness to trot forward slight,
but despite the sodden squish of your converse shoes...
You head into the night.