The Midnight Commute

She was driving home under brilliant glow of the full moon. The clouds were sliding along the dark blue sky, like phantoms on a slow procession.

She was captivated by the moon and the phantom clouds. Thoughts of dancing in the moonlight, gazing at the stars, and nuzzling her lover flashed through her mind. The time was near for witches to take flight, for vampires to take up the hunt, and for ghosts to take their nightly trundle.

Thoughts of keeping an eye on the road also drifted by, but she was locked to the moon.

"I should have been a priestess," she thought, "performing many rites of nature with lusty men in loincloths."

Tonight would be a perfect night for rituals.

"What we do, we do for the tribe, baby. So close your eyes and think of Stonehenge."

The world is harsh, she thought, yet it was dripping with sensuality. Despite it's many perils, the earth was instant fun; just add humans and stir.

Her thoughts slowly swerved from lust into thoughts of love. Oh, to snuggle with her lover, the fingers of the moonlight dancing upon them.

She dwelled on how oppressed she felt when not in love. Then she is in love. Love is her emancipator. There are compromises, but the intimacy crushes the bonds of a loveless heart. All is possible, and she begins to soar. Surrendering to the altitude, she senses the chill in the air. Her lover is lost. Fear of flying sets in. Love is her captor. No, she is her own captor, now.

She breaks her gaze from the moon and returns thoughts of the road and the speed she is going.