somewhere far from home

driving late at night, in the rain, the road turns black and slick. the lines blur and slip slide, in and out of focus, the street lights streak and run, candy bright and rainbow. almost like driving on water. the easy music winding out of the speakers, licks the edges of my ears, the sleepiness pulls on my limbs and eyes, cotton soft and gentle, my thoughts are rounded and unstrung, spilling along my arms and passing through the windows to streak the pavement with the lights. oil smooth but nowhere as slick. the dash lights are military generals, stout and uncompromising, chests puffed out and backs straight with ingrained training, the fog is a siren luring my head lights off their chosen path, and the rain is a cushion from the inevitable blow. the drops tac tac tac against metal and glass and the puddles shush shush, like the ocean lapping against the hull of a boat. my thoughts spin, deep in my chest, when i look up through the rain i can almost see the moon, or so i imagine, phantom light, shining to guide me back home. my fingers itch for a pen and paper, to capture this moment, so i can remember it later, feel it all over again, like a false sense of nostalgia. i see my house and the porch light reaches out, home, and the sirens song is broken. and i am left feeling sleepy and slow. molasses in the winter, sugar in cold water.