The Glowing Orange Street Lights

I'm alone. The bus has rushed away as I am left standing in the middle of the road, looking onto an empty procession of glowing street lights. My path has an orange guide.
The leafless trees stand firm as the freezing breeze whistles through the rounds of my ears.
4:22 am. Storefronts, lit up with darkness, line the street.
4:25 am. My thoughts are my own, however, spoken aloud.
4:29 am. The hum of the waking highway can be heard through the crisp early morning air.
4:31 am. This endless straightaway shoots on for infinity.
4:41 am. The street curves.
4:45 am. The dark residences of people emulate the sky. Empty. Black.
4:47 am. A sign of life, a single car creeps up behind me.
4:48 am. The green beast has sped away.
4:51 am. Turn right.
4:56 am. Turn left.
4:57 am. My street. My neighborhood. Flat and quiet, only the breeze can be heard rustling through the square hedges of front lawns.
5:01 am. Home, through the window and onto the couch.
5:05 am. Bathroom, change of clothes then bed.
Sweet sweet sleep.