The 18 wheelers,
parked on the rural
on-ramps and off-ramps,
have not yet
rumbled
from their sleep.
I crack my
second pepsi,
nestled comfortably
in the cup-holder,
and shift into
fifth gear
as the running lights
of the tractor-trailers
work overtime
to belabor
their obvious parallel
to the stars
still hung with
frost.