Backseat Stranger

I

3 AM, The sound of crickets and lorries rumbling through the streets. In the backseat she whispers on the phone, dismantles silence.

I avert my eyes from the glare of an oncoming vehicle.

II

On the highway skyscrapers draped in starlight. I turn on the headlights fearing I might lose my way.

III

I drive on and yet am often caught unawares by a lost memory pinned down to the viewfinder.

IV

Windshield blurred by rain, the city — a pitch black canvas of asphalt.

Tyres lose their grip, I make a wrong turn.

V

Night rain, lightening across the skies snaps like nerve ends, ‘Georgia on my mind’, the radio howls. The roadside dog moans, pines for a lover.

VI

The road wears on, as does the night — In the backseat now only a shadow without a name.