Poem 3: Interstate

It's dark now, driving home
red tail lights, green highway signs
The road is its own city
dear neighbor, dear dashboard lit
in the next lane, is this
your exit? The radio says
all those workers, the radio says
every square state, every between
I'm here, staccato reflective
yellow, pavement, thinking
of the leaves on the trees
against the brilliant blue
sky, yellow stretching into
I'm here, down the ramp
my city at the city's end
stop lights, the donut shop
and up the hill, the moon