Amazing number of 
last-minute things
packed in,
over, around, 
and beside me.
Helmet and pie plates,
cleaning supplies,
wall art, and an 
unhappy plant.
Broken-bill marlin
strapped to the roof.
One fake glass eye
watching the stars.

Something electrical
is very, very wrong, 
headlights too dim,
this little four banger
wants to quit if I
let off the gas.
Full-moon cows
pay me no heed.
Silver gray pavement
leads the way,
and I’m feeling safer at speed.
Just enough spark
running from home
to a house,
up route nine
in the dark.