An Absence

 

Names filled with letters and liquor.

A twist tie twists and I hear Zest taking the

garbage out.

I want a county style day,

where those roads I love

take me from people I don’t.

The places are eager for touch.

My thigh draws his hand closer

our skin fusing under the heat of the windshield.

 

After the detergent is bought,

and the bookstore has pinned us against the wall

and takes our money, we go down the roads again

to laze and lounge

in the house of pasta we built.

 

But now the roads are curled away from me.

His hand has greater work than joy for now,

in places that growl low in the night.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s