January 1984

late in the day

on the homeward trail

climbing crests of earth

many eyes stab the night

at tangents to the line

they’re speeding along

sixty miles an hour

such a hectic pace

for such a centipede

once on its way

like the Rubik cube

never more the same

kaleidoscopic change

each part an entity

without identity

until the homeward trail

comes close at hand

and the time has come to go

Just for those who cannot guess

this was inspired watching cars

on the 401 between Trenton and

Belleville wend their way home

at night, all in a narrow line.