Let us keep driving – from 10 & 2, an upcoming book of poems about drive.

“Let our scars fall in love.” – Galway Kinnell

Let the tire tracks we leave

in the fresh powder 

fall in love with the arms 

already asleep with The Walking Dead. 

Let the fuel lights of our minds 

love us enough to keep us 

going twenty more miles, 

on the nights we can’t stop 

for fear of missing the next brilliant idea. 

Let the snow-covered curbs we hit 

while making careless right turns 

forgive us and love us anyway

though we forget they are there 

to keep us inbounds. 

And let the windows we fail to defrost 

thoroughly in the morning have mercy upon us. 

Let their benevolence allow us 

just the right amount of clarity to see 

the brake lights ahead of us, 

the coffee shops to the right of us, 

and the phantoms behind us.

The Others

Believing the voices of others

is like a fatal a accident on the side

of the interstate.

You promise yourself you won’t 

pause and look, but you do it anyway.

Feeling the stare of others on your skin

is an afternoon when you’re body is done with the ocean-

when you’re not sure whether you feel soft, salted,

and cleansed – or weighted, wrinkled, and burned.

Tasting the deception of others 

is like that one deceiving berry,

the one on the bottom that looks as brilliant as all the others,

but when you bite into it, the blandness fails

to satisfy your violent need for sweet half-truths.

touching the hand of another can be the last thing

you want to do if you don’t want to chance

remembering a name – and the only thing 

you want to do, if you want to forget your own for a while.