two blinking red dots
blinking in the distance
shrouded in unblinking
blackest night,
ten fingers tapping
flat keys, spaces in between,
many things are said
by tires crunching the earth, by
the engines they are carrying,
voices whisper below a window
in somewhere lost Virginia,
brown river runs black chrome at mid night,
sewer water gurgles and belches beneath
our feet,
reaching up, reaching out,
two blinking red dots
blinking out in no space
piercing the unblinking fog
of deep night,
ten fingers tapping
space comma good night period
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