Time slips between their white knuckled grasp of the steering wheel

Sometimes, as I’m driving home from work, far too late, the sun slips behind the hills, and I can feel the heat and the cold battle for the dust of the day. The red lights, yellow lights blink with tired fury. Cars push themselves beyond exhaustion, with workers not yet home. Weary gray lines stretch under the tires, while darkness swallows the unfulfilled hopes of the day. I can see the lists, daydreams and emails drift from their smoldering cigarettes into an unsatisfied abyss above. Time slips between their white knuckled grasp of the steering wheel, while the cellphones glitter and buzz with new promises to keep.  So slowly, is the pain and the weight of paper and things released and forgiven in our dreams. New hope and dread lightly fall upon the ashes of today. Sweetness of light, all is innocent and perfect in the beautiful darkness of morning.