The Highway

A winding road of thoughts.

I see your car in the distance.


Dancing towards me.

In the arid, hazy sun.

Closer and closer.

You get to were I am standing.

The lonely car on a lonely highway with a lonely person inside.

An open boulevard.

Of just you.

You have passed towns filled with people.

But never bothered to stop.

Why stop here?

Why stop now?

In these dark abandon streets.

With dark abandon people.


You take one step out of your dirty, run down car.

Observing this new place. 

Where I am used to.

While the moon is faintly noticeable from the clouds blocking it.

Just like you.

You are the moon, hidden by the murky clouds.

The brightest thing in the sky in the gloomy night.

But still everyone pulls you back.


I smile into your wide-dull eyes.

You just stare back.


The highway is frozen.

Until the day you get back into filthy car.

Because its your trail to follow.

Your face is blank with no expression.

You think hard, trying to learn new things.


I question myself, “What is this person doing here?”

Not trying to know who you are.

With your crooked smile, which I never see.

Nothing but silence leaves your glued mouth.

Always silent.

Always watching.

Always learning.


Lost in peoples eyes.

But the lost look on your face grows.

Smaller and smaller.



One day you back into that beat-up car you came in.

Not knowing where you are going next.


You look back at me.

In your review mirror.


Knowing you learned something from me.


Back again.

On the haunted avenue of life.

You turn the wheel.

Like a motor boat about to hit another.

The wheel doesn’t jerk.

Your car keeps going forwards.

Away from me.


The trial of your life travels on and on.

Reaching new lives.

Different places.

And opportunities.


Back to the lonely desert.

Of just one car.

If you look back far enough.

You can see your car.

Before you went for a drive.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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