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"Sleep" finds escape in the stop-and-go solitude of trucks, whose noise carries the speaker away even when human contact does not.

The trucks are treated almost like thinking creatures, private and sealed off from the speaker's need. That distance matters, because the poem does not ask to be rescued so much as carried by sound. Motion, smoke, and engine rhythm become a form of withdrawal more reliable than companionship.

'Sleep' treats passing trucks as private, half-sentient creatures -- 'They stop and go / They smoke and think / They are so private now' -- that the speaker doubts 'would / pick up me'. What he wants is not rescue but withdrawal: it is 'The sound' that 'Anyway lets me / go away', making engine noise a more reliable escort into sleep than any human pickup.