You curl on spines of paperback saints
While diesel hums through window panes
The fluorescent buzz becomes your hymn
You purr in keys the choir dimmed
Oh tabby saint of midnight fuel
You catch the glow that pilots rule
Each headlight paints your fur in gold
A psalm for travelers growing old
Your tail keeps time with passing trucks
The night dispatcher wishes luck
You knead the dust of folded maps
And fold your paws in atlas laps
The aisle of mysteries holds your breath
While headlights write their psalms of rest
You bless the tires, bless the miles
You bless the dark with slit-pupiled smiles
Oh tabby saint of midnight fuel
You catch the glow that pilots rule
Each headlight paints your fur in gold
A psalm for travelers growing old
No stained glass here, just bug-smeared glass
No organ swell, just engines pass
But in your throat the old chant lives
A hymn for all the road forgives
The attendant waves his paper cup
You blink slow as the sun comes up
One more tank, one more sleeping town
You watch the gray pull white lines down
Oh tabby saint of midnight fuel
You catch the glow that pilots rule
Each headlight paints your fur in gold
A psalm for travelers growing old
Tabby saint of midnight fuel
You catch the glow that pilots rule
