the highway is beautiful at night
a ribbon of flowing lights
and I lose myself in the drumbeat
drowning in the bassline
pretending it's your heartbeat.
consciousness flowing through
the empty passenger seat
dissipating out into the air.
it is twenty eight degrees outside
and I hardly notice.
I'm eighteen miles ahead
and seven months behind
walking the razor edge of ambivalence
as you slip in and out of focus
but only for one grasping moment
so I'm left again with only air to hold.
you're my cloud
but I haven't found the sun yet
what is it that burns you away?
I'm sorry that I can't feel your vapor
waiting for the rain
or another sunny day
I'm assaulted by mist and fog.
she twines her hand in mine
what is this silence?
I patch your holes with scraps of plaid
but you're wearing so thin
and I'm almost out of thread.
weave me tartan from your hair, love
it's brazen, oceanic
just the thing for mending this
unless I'm illiterate
unless I'm deluding myself
into thinking I could read the words
you traced upon my arms
so I'll sit here calmly erasing you.
I know you didn't mean to kill my balance
but I'm tumbling.
if she catches me
does that make her mine?
alternately pushing and pulling
it's go limp or tear apart.
I stare out my spiderwebbed pane
with mendacious clarity
hoping the shards hold
always just a few more weeks.