Labor Day

The storm
pours its guts out,
onto the roof
of the car.

violently
pounding
the metal
above my head.

Battering steadily.

Constant,
and terrorizing,

It sings me
to sleep
at 80 miles per hour.

I veer onto
the rumblestrip,
and jolt
myself awake.

I reposition
the car
between
the lines
of the highway,
and force
my eyes
to hold back
their tears.

Today
is not my day
to go.

someone,
somwhere
wants a little more
of me.

I dont mind
either way.

9/3/07 3:56am