In a hurry on the highway,
(and late, if I had it my way, wouldn’t be venturing at all,
answering a call for clarity,)
speed approaching “harrowing,”
down the pavement barrelling,
passing a pristine off-brown brand-new Nissan Maxima with vanity plates that read,
Intrigued, and passing anyway,
I took to venturing a look at this would-be Beast,
feasted my eyes upon Darkness’ Prince, incarnate.
His face was plain enough that it would easily blend into the background of any lineup,
though wearing a red dress shirt and a gray button down vest,
making his charcoal eyes seem all the more vivid,
an ember at the center, burning for an iris.
Lucifer of the Interstate glanced at me,
but he was driving just below the speed limit,
clearly meant to be some other person’s torment,
at the very least.