poems from a monday night #2

for ashley rose


two miles past the diner we broke down again,

that fall-apart car

and me.


our smoke hid inside forestfire sky,

so we’d laughed

our way down

unseen swirls,

busted-radiator gray.


when we pulled over

and the truth spiraled out

i stared at the smoke,

and you stared

at me.


with jokes on your lips

you held me together

more mechanic than gas-station men

with sentences and cigarettes

and yesterdays.


in the end we only made it to the roadside casino,

stashed our things

left the car

and hitched home.


i had keys in my pocket

to leave the next day

but i slept in your bed that night

and the rest

waiting for my car








Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s