Holding my breath
Osceola County, Florida, Summer 2002
Northbound on the turnpike
across vague acres
at evening’s beginning.
The green-eyed passenger ignores me
hurt and angry by some shit
I said or didn’t.
I could’ve done better
for her
but what matters more
just then
to me—
the immense roll cloud
its quiet distance
overwhelming the one between us.
Wipers off, I know
we’ll make the plunge
soon enough.
The terrible, jealous Buddha
will rake shame
and love
and leave
eventually.
And I know
I’ll drive this turnpike again
an open jewel box
in the passenger seat
and brown eyes in my thoughts
undenied and spotlit.
StereoStory#693
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