upon the fields of barley

for a few seconds, as i drift home, i flick off my lights and let the darkness of the highway overwhelm me.

it's lined with silver, tall pines on the right. the shadows cast by the moon are so intense that the concept of an inky shadow suddenly makes sense. the wind blowing in my window has dislodged most of my hair, forcing blonde tendrils to defy gravity and stick to my parted lips and glassy eyes. wax-paper encrusted pasta slides along the passenger seat, making slight snapping noises in the wind.

it feels like magic.