It never happened, but in my mind

9 03 2009

We drove
on the interstate,

across the nation
in my big blue car.

Countless street lines
flashed by
in painted metronome beat –
yellow and allegro.

In the backseat
our bottles lay.
Prized while they bubbled
Fresca or Diet Coke,

now layabouts,
sullen as reprimanded children.

I fell asleep
nearing Colorado,
——–How majestic
——–a passenger seat is
——–when horizontal
woke again, freezing
to find all the windows down,
and you ashing sparks
with your white arms
out the window.

Your voice
borne on the wind,
shouting:

My name is Sweet Thing!

We ended in Frisco by the bay
turned our eyes from dusk to see
our shadows stretching
across the land,
over mountains and into valleys,

far enough to darken Rhode Island.


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