Fog driving

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Fly, unearthly shadow of a motorway barn owl,
flap your ghostly wings with no sound.
Close a thick fog curtain on what could have been,
blur its contour till it’s faint like a dream.
Land on top of a beheaded signpost
holding change in your beak.
A minute ago I drove on a broad, straight road;
now, a fading white line’s all I see.
I’m rushing to my destination in the night
not knowing I’ve missed my destiny.
Now, nocturnal totem, tell me what I am to do
in a limbo, after life.

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