We told ghost stories
while driving down a
mostly-abandoned midnight
stretch of I-94.

The truck hummed familiarly,
keeping a semblance of
comfort as our minds Raced
back to places where we
didn’t know what lay
quite beyond the ring
of our flashlights.
When gates swung
for no good reason,
and toys came on
without a battery to
power them.

the thoughts of forgotten
fears gripped us,
memories of times spent
in dark places we
probably ought not
wander through.

And without the comfort
of that constantly
humming motor,
I’m certain we would
have driven ourselves
Insane.

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