black chevrolet

I grasp the white tightrope with groping fingers, feeling my way across the face of the cliff.  The glistening city shows, in a sideways glance at the triangle of mirror, and is gone.  Ice smears the asphalt, the wipers chudder across the pelted windshield, and the blindfolded glimpse of road ahead wavers, pulls inward and fades to bright white

The glaring eyes of a descending monster peer at me, headlong through the fog. Their rainbow coronas grow in size until the beams whip by, trailing long green scars in the dark. That was close.

Steady on, roll it slow, feel your way, feel the headlights along that bright white fogline, the fogline that is your salvation.  Tiptoes now, icy icy, don't stray an inch because the edge is there, the cliff is there and you will die.

Another monster shows between the wagging wipers, another pair of intolerable eyes tear the darkness into green swipes and are gone.  Feel it, feel the road now...