Booth

For miles, it is the only light on.
Lost, tired of driving in circles, as a moth
drawn to a flame, he pulls over.
He has not seen one of these in years.
Why was it placed here, in
the middle of nowhere, and for whom?
He has not encountered
another car since midnight’s arrival.
When he turns off his engine,
he is surprised to find how conversant
the dark suddenly seems.
Squeezing himself into its glass walls,
he unfolds the door shut,
a child again in the confessional box.
Beneath a bare bulb’s glare,
he feels exposed to a gossiping wind.
Slightly claustrophobic,
he finds himself fumbling for change,
but before he can even lift
the receiver to dial, the phone rings,
a loud, incessant sound.
Startled, his heart pounds to get out.
Tumbling back into the dark,
he races for the safety of his vehicle,
dropping coins along the way.
Pursued by a voice he’ll never hear,
an accusation unanswered,
his rear view mirror remains haunted.
For miles, it is the only light on.

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