Through the windshield the stars
are huge, distorted asterisks,
while my hands trace the steering wheel,
and my mouth cinches tight.
Tears mark my thighs like–
black holes,
age spots,
ellipses.
and I go through my universe
wishing
I was lost,
but I am found here,
on the hood of my Honda,
empty warmth at my back,
and infinity overhead.
The night is beautiful
despite your absence,
to say that it needs you to be so
wouldn’t be love,
but to say that your absence is felt,
despite the beauty before me,
is.
I turn over sickly, hum in agony,
until the jagged edges of life’s key
click into the ignition,
catch and push me forward
down this far-stretching shadow of road.
