An Ode To I-45

The anticipation grows one way, but diminishes the other
You are dotted with places no-one ever heard of,
And no Starbucks has ever graced
The surface changes from asphalt to concrete and back again
From Galveston past a tall Sam Houston to downtown Dallas
There's little reason to call you an Interstate
Except for federal funding
And the sheer number of orange barrels that dot the shoulder
I've lived with you for most of my life, an artery, a vein
Taking me to what I want
Taking me away from it.
I see you mostly in the dark, alone for hours
And the time always seems longer going south
Your natural sounds seem to be rolling tires
Country music, and screaming preachers
So I have to tune out, inducing my own calm
Trying to find my own peace.