A Driving Night, 1988

a driving night, 1988

We spent the night driving
Teaching me Henry Miller
Swore ourselves to Anais
Felt June inside calm calamities of January
And on a hill above the highway we parked
Car running, hazard lights beating against our legs
You lit a cigarette, ages older than me
Those years I grew up
Outside a slum
And everyone smoked there
I saw yellow windows from the street
Aged teeth and bones
Nicotine soaked egos
But now you inhaled and all I saw was purest marrow
And the blinding milk of the street lights
You saluted and said you can see everything
And I took it as a compliment
You pointed to the road
Ribbons of traffic lights
There's our milky way
You said and laughed
And smoke left your lungs like a jogger exhaling spring
You cocked your neck to the sky
City lights break the stars somehow
You were so delicate that night so careful with words
City lights beat them back you said
And the headlights twinkled
Our breath crystallized inside that month
And I wrapped my scarf tighter, felt each hole of cold
And yearned to get back in the car
Go back home to Mom
But this was so much of you at once
All I'm saying is
You said
All I'm saying is that there's our future
And you pointed your cigarette tipped rosy
Up the highway
And it seemed to stretch forever