Rain was pouring across The windshield of my car A man slouched in the shadow Of an ancient dying star No suitcase and no shelter Just a coat worn paper-thin He said, “You’re headed where I need to go” Before I told him where I’d been Keep your eyes upon the highway The white lines come and go Every mile becomes a question Only midnight seems to know Don’t ask me to name the distance Names are labels that we wear Keep driving toward the morning We’ll arrive when we are there He tapped three times on the window Then softly spoke my name Said, “You leave from where you begin And call the leaving change” He knew the scar beneath my collar And the lie I couldn’t share When lightning filled the rearview My own eyes were waiting there Keep your eyes upon the highway The white lines come and go Every mile becomes a question Only midnight seems to know Don’t ask me to name the distance Names are labels that we wear Keep driving toward the morning We’ll arrive when we are there The clock misplaced its numbers The compass pointed down We passed the same abandoned church On the edge of every town The rain rose from the pavement And vanished in the air He said, “The road is almost finished” But the road was everywhere Morning gathered at the edges And the rain began to thin I turned to ask the stranger What he meant by “where you begin” The seat beside me was empty But the rain had left a sign My name backward on the window In a hand that looked like mine I kept my eyes upon the highway Watched the white lines come and go Every mile remained a question Only midnight seemed to know I never learned to name the distance Names are labels that we wear I drove straight into the morning And found myself still waiting there
