Sunday, November 13, 2016


Highway at night.
Empty but for the wind
Silent but for the tapping of
Indecisive heels on concrete
Lens, to follow the drift
Of the ways in which impulse form.

He decided we would
Many years ago.
That eternal partner
That I yet clutch
He’s burned me out
But faith will have no part of that belief.

I’m there, in the drab fog
Sucking up the appeal
Of what might be found
On that quiet plane of unmatched speed.
That dream we arranged
Together, in our twenties

Of alley’s and piss
And the unexpected kiss
Of alcohol’s precision
Our laughter, our friendship
Our clamoring requests
That seventh grade broken heart


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