The Gault - County Road, Six Miles In

Left watching beside the road
The robbers came and once again
Took nothing

Closed my eyes to join the night
Held out my hand and once again
Felt nothing

Drove out, long and slow
Upon the loosened gravel road
A blank night in the headlights,
And holes of leaving in each mirror

A ghost limb guides the wheel,
Calculating distances of stone fields
And ditches
And faded markers counting down

Your gaze is on the glass
Your eyes are tripping through the trees
Ahead of us, surviving us
And leaving this to some uncertain way

Chance is the thrown one
Crying, low and feral
On a small curve
A small curve

Junctures go sliding by,
On this empty ribbon pulling forward,
And forward
Bu never, never, never away