one a.m.
it's one a.m.
and just then we approached
the streetlight lit cotton cloud
the careless blizzard
seen from '94 Honda,
armor to a force
full of vicious windy static
the radio plays windows down
shiny lonely puddles
all along the passenger seat
empty
buckling under our single puzzle
and even though
i've lost your crackling weight i still hope
the time difference
doesn't wake you from your nap
that the distance doesn't grow
for you as it did for me:
thinking back to summer nights,
back porches in Sagamore--
(she tips her gaze out
back room window towards Orion
breathlessly shouting)
i couldn't tell you
about the fatal shift: maybe it was the
photo albums, dancing pirouettes
fingers crossed and eyes screwed shut
forced open to double blurry
yellow lines
leading me home
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