Night Driving

Pupils swallowing the shadows,

skin washed away.

Eyes sore in the cloudy moonlight,

another slow coach, another five miles.

A rumble of pollution,

blowing a hole in the tin.

A red devil,

sweeping a corner, tyres to the white.

A loud drum steals the night,

gathered in the west wind's arms.

Travel by the black and white superstitions,

fur and bones crowd the slick wet.