A spider lives in my wing mirror
I've never seen him yet everyday he leaves
silken traces that I dare not disturb
as his homely reflections
delicately waft in the slipstream
I travel with my elusive
companion weaving his tangled web
occasionally funnelling towards
dazzling indicators
as my ticket to freedom
remains his home
Regular journeys turning into irregular choices
by blue messages appearing on
glass nestled between my thighs
connecting then missing a turn
The distances grown
stretch black tarmac
thinner than chewing gum
beneath two bands of rubber
Millions of seconds sat on blue weave
heading towards a lifetime of firsts
a neutral third rings out changing
down from fifth missing a perfect fourth
I swerve over a fidgeting balloon
in the middle of the carriageway
which to my surprise survives
Seventy thousand miles travelled
without ever knowing my stowaway
and should we ever meet
I will ask how the road looks
going backwards
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