The car lights up the back roads of your hometown
as you chase the yellow dots painted on the concrete
into the misty dark
Air tumbles through the window
while you watch the constellations
and soon you’re running with the stars
Minutes recede with the streetlights
fading in the rearview mirror
they too are swallowed by the night
The wild summer air and the dark familiar roads
drifting with the night breeze
is enough to fill your soul
"The universe isn't made of atoms, it's made of tiny stories." 
Nice juxtaposition of traveling on a road vs. being in a familiar place. Good work.
Thank you!
J’aime beaucoup ce poème ; il y a quelque chose de vrai dedans, c’est vivant et simple à la fois.
Et aussi la phrase en en-tête à propos des “tiny stories”…
Merci beaucoup!