Late Night Pharmacy

never liked this road in rain
but it’s different when someone else is driving
free to look out the window, see
street lights poured in wells of pavement
all the bulbs flicking
out in the pharmacy.
when the music on is my own
and my bones belong to me again; 
not to the curvature of the road,
bent to the will of the steering wheel,
sheer force of the oncoming traffic.
then, like a concerto ending,
the first few seconds after the phone’s hung up and I’m alone in the dark,
we are parked: he has run in to get the cold medicine.