The Traveller

The midnight pokes out from under the dirt, navy, with chrome trim, catching the moon’s eye, that Ally Sheedy fringe can’t help but flirt, as her 1970’s Audi stands by… idle, cobwebs spinning on in the while, the girl cannot see out, for winter’s fate, has become a little bit more hostile, she stares down at her steering wheel in wait. Her backseat is leathered in memories, I imagine as trinkets from her past, adventures, she seems way too young, to me, to be out alone in the world, so fast, unaware, that I have been watching her, devising a tale under night’s voyeur.