riding the storm out
driving down the interstate
doing seventy-seven
city lights nowhere in sight
he routinely checked his side view
his rear view
his front view
occasionally checking in on
his quiet companion riding shotgun
they hadn’t spoken for over an hour
and he wondered if she had awakened
what’s wrong she whispered
I was just thinking about the grid
he said
how fragile it may or may not be
and what will happen next if it gets hit again
how much further are we going tonight
she asked
I don’t know he said
maybe until my hand stops hurting
or we see some morning light
february two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
I love what is not being said here..
Thank you, Björn.
Who knows what will happen next.
Exactly. Nobody that I can think of, Lola.
lovely..
Very nice write…i love it when there is so much between the lines, it allows the reader to make up their own story 🙂
That was certainly intentional…thank-you, Melanie!