Anymore, I don’t care so much
about speed bumps, stop signs, fifth floor ledges,
you.
I watch your eyes like stoplights, the warnings
always present, signaling when to stop
or go or take a turn. I can hear you, can see
you there with warm arms and promises; but
with you I could never be
what I needed to keep me
strong and upright, could never
hold what I knew it was
all burning inside where the anger
and the cool lamp of what it is I love about you
are the same.
I never tire of this,
trying to find you where you are not.
I will keep moving, keep my fists tight
on the wheel, knowing that now
there is just this road,
this long flat of Indiana
empty fields and a sign
telling me to stop soon.But I keep driving, zoning
into the yellow lines drawn to keep me
from passing,
and the wild shoulder of the road sprinting by.
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