Because I feel like it

This is your humanity.
The gas station glows, a city on a hill.
I left that place to forget.

This is what you are.
The customers flock here waiting to be found.
But I know the spider web's wisdom.

Did you really think we were all Kierkegaard's?
The clerk's apathetic benevolence: five minutes or seventy cents.
Why do I see them at sunrise?