On nights spiked with bright bolts of daylight the rain plunking down perfect angle to the windshield. Too fast. Roads become black mirrors and a pang of anything-but-racing-home hits. Remembering feeling like this days ago sun shining so bright slicing straight through the sky taking it out on the steering wheel feeling it a companion and champion for your fists and finger-tapping-drumming-strumming along the twists of a road song not needing a reason to be pissed joyous. The only thing sensations are revs inside your heart wind against your palm music knocking around in your guts. You know you won’t notice as you pass by the road that goes home.