When I was small
I dreamed of following every road
to its logical end
and its surrender to nature

Living on my high hill
on clear windless nights sometimes
I could make out the far-off sounds
of the interstate
in the valley below

When we would go to visit
my aunt and uncle
in their leafy subdivision at Damon Farms
Backed up against the never-dimming roar
of the Massachusetts Turnpike
I would fight sleep listening
to the Doppler hum of the highway
Dreaming of all those night travelers passing
Artists and cops
Truckers and thieves
Boston or Albany?

Now I am a man
and I am the Doppler hum of the highway
Tracing my solitary wanderings
in the great American darkness
between the mega glowing urbanias
Tonight I will go farther than all my counterparts
for I will see my fair Virginia home
by first light
I am like that;
I roar into your life for but a moment and vanish again
stealing my place in the flow
I am the Doppler hum of the highway
and I already
miss you