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From the Window of a Car
Glancing out the cold glass window,
Watching the trees come and go,
Then gazing at the sky
Foamy white swells
Thinly stretched, barely there.
They froth against the clam shell clouds,
Which fade into plumes of sleeping coral.
Looking straight ahead,
Gazing past the blaze of red and green,
Glimpsing the silhouettes of dark trees blooming,
Against a daydream of a swirling purple and blue,
Purple and blue,
Smeared with silver-tongued billows of peach and pink.
Glancing over the flash of a highway,
Watching the strings of diamond run down
Down and through the darkness of a black, black river.
Rubies flicker, and emeralds blink
Far off, the mountains become black with slumber
Little blots of orange stardust collect in their dreams,
Scattering a handful of illumination over the mountain
To scare away the nightmares.
But while the mountain sleeps,
The river of shimmering jewels continues to stream by.
It crosses over, under, then aligns itself with another.
Glancing out to watch the sky,
Watching certain roads grow near
Getting off, picking up their bags
Stepping into the warm breath of home.
One last glance out the door
The sky is dark; pinpricks of light pierce the sky.
The jewels outside dim, a yawn and a squeak.
Close the door, shutting out the cold night.
The car is asleep.