Night Driving

Early Illinois autumn -
the cicadas have quieted, 
left the corn.
An early morning rush
of independence has my
windows rolled down, and only
I exist.  In this space between today
and the tentative tomorrow, aphids
bless my fingertips, and a familiar
field, crushed beneath
an impossible fog, dares me to plunge -
left or right?  All direction is
nonsense, captured by the year's
strangling harvests.  All this open space
is making girls my age run, crazy, "suffocating"
to cities.
To husbands.
To anywhere but here.
And tonight, for the first time this year, 
I'm breathing.

Kelly Donohue's Questions:

1.  Is the image clear? 

2.  Is the end narrative out-of-place?

3.  What would you recommend to polish?

Thank you!!!