FUEL LIGHT ON

Fuel light on, but I still drove through
No road home, only what I knew
Tank on empty, but the nerve stayed full
Fuel light on — still I made that move

Four-sixteen on the dashboard glass
Desert went black when the last town passed
Borrowed sedan with a shake in the wheel
Envelope tucked where the floor mat peeled
Interview clothes on a hanger behind me
One white shirt and a promise beside me
Needle laid flat like it gave up first
I counted mile signs, measured my thirst
No signal bars, no shoulder wide
Just truck-stop stars and a prayer inside
Every sensible voice said, “Turn that car”
But fear gets loud when the dream gets far

Next exit — twelve
Next chance — one
If I stop here
Then the doubt has won

Fuel light on, but I still drove through
No road home, only what I knew
Tank on empty, but the nerve stayed full
Fuel light on — still I made that move

Reached that building with fumes and dust
Guard looked down at the shoes I brushed
Signed my name with a gas-station pen
Sat by a window, then breathed again
Months went by, first check came clean
Found that same car by a vending machine
Young woman crying, hood raised high
Late for a test on the other side
I filled her tank, left the receipt
Said, “Keep your eyes where the road lines meet”
She asked my name; I shook my head
Some roads repay what the brave once spent

I thought the warning meant I was finished.
It only meant
I had to know what mattered
before the engine went quiet.

Fuel light on, and we still drove through
Road came clear when the daylight grew
Tank near empty, but the heart stayed full
Fuel light on — still we made that move

One more mile.