Margins

In and out of fog

I squint and stare

Trying to glimpse the margins of the road.

Oh, yes, the lanes are important

But those margins

Those margins

The places to pull over to when

a tire blows

the engine overheats

the load comes loose

you need to rest

Oh, those margins are indispensable

For I am at a crossroads

And though I squint and stare

I discern no difference

Recognize no landmarks

But I must choose

Soon,

Now

Turn one way or the other

And so I look for the margins

Longing for a break

A chance to rub my eyes

Stretch my limbs

Refocus

And hope for the fog to lift.