Mended

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

Mended.