Vows Broken

Late night, coming home from work, making the turn onto the rural highway, shortcut between freeways, down shifting, making the turn, realizing that there are no tail lights ahead, upshifting, anxious anticipation, no head lights behind, those conscience joggers, that make one keep his vows, and so the foot goes down, fifty, sixty, eighty, one hundred and beyond, car and body one, rushing through the rural dark, high beams on, willing that no small animal or deer make their journey cross yours, Jerry Rice eyes open to the road ahead, and on the road behind in the mirror, placid anticipation, ready for the heat, taking curves flawlessly, suspended in time and space, aging ended, serene, timeless, at peace, and then the street lights appear, community, the road to home, the vow, never ever, to do that again! Maybe.