Meteorite

This evening, driving home,
the road scrolling beneath my wheels,
evening grasping the sky.
It screams downward,
angled sharp,
a burning hot ember,
a trail of fire and smoke,
its head so white
it's almost clear,
an ever-changing corona - 
now mauve,
now sterling,
now platinum -
a metamorphosing gash
in the cerulean sky,
a crack between worlds.

It nears the mesa,
ever smaller,
and I forget
the road,
I forget
my obligations,
I forget
the groceries 
in the back seat -
its magnetism calls me.
Wordless it reminds:
a moment alone,
without time.