Where I'm Headed

I drive out each night
to see the city sky get bright,
because someday, I'm afraid, I'll forget it.
The people outside are saying every line
like one day they might live to regret it.

I tried to catch up the strain
of the murmuring refrain
that seeped out from the streets,
where it was embedded.

Under the fluorescent sky
another wayward, errant sigh
was etched into the walls,
where nobody read it.

You hold on so tight
when you lay down at night,
as the traffic outside
sweeps your room with its lights,
because the sunrise,
when it hits your eyes,
could burn out all those dreams,
if you let it.