Streetlights rush past our windows
Traffic thins and disappears all together
Bus rocks gently back and forth
Watch the nothing, silent films forever
Waves of pockmarked asphalt
Pushing us back home
Dome lights and headphones
Twenty three alone
Think through every random thought
Try to look through reflections of myself
Buildings I know come into frame
But there's nowhere I want to go
Waves of pockmarked asphalt
Turn to smoother streams
House lights signal endings
But I am lost in a dream