Asleep At the Wheel

It’s evening rush hour on 101 Parched hills burn golden Hemmed gnarled oaks see no road Crowded between cars heading home Smell the sage with windows rolled God’s garnish perfumes my nose His acres shrinking like my heart AC on, car windows are closed Distant lovers wait while hills burn My off-ramp leads to no homecoming I close my eyes and count to five Grip the wheel terror wakes me at two Whisper to me, live this rush hour The hills grow darker by the minute The oak stretches its shadowy arms No one to welcome me this Tuesday Two cats starving hastens not this drive Soon twilight's violet will consume this gold The oak, the hills, and I'll return to darkness Return to the natural hue of the universe If not for hope, I and our galaxy are devoid We reflexively wait for a revolution I unable to count to ten on the road If not for hope, no exit welcomes Because of hope, I came home To the company of my screen