I want to remember all the miles
of radio silence on tires as slick
as asphalt. How we sang
through the static of every sunset.
Pushing for a few miles more
until venus and jupiter showed up.
We had spent too much time
in the bowl of that desert,
life gets worn down real quick,
with the danger of never
gaining traction. Now hindsight
is a jangly image changing
in the rearview mirror.
It was the longest goodbye.
Your hand out the window, an airfoil
performing acrobatics all the way.
You kissed me and kept on going.
I’m going to say you were
a bird all along.





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