Roadkill

Sometimes I think I love you but now you’ve gone and cut your hair again
And here we are lying in the middle of the street like dumb cats with a death wish
All the leaves sticking to my sweater, my sweating palms
You stop to brush one off, your fingers lingering
Over the indents in my ribs, the sharpness of my hips,
Causing my mind to skip back a few beats to another night on the hill with him,
All fireworks and freckles, warm radios and warmer hands
Soft static and sound of her voice as she tuned in to listen,
Placing pieces of a custard donut into his mouth
As I locked my ankles beneath the cold table

So here I am, praying to god-knows-who that this doesn’t end
In quick clicks of lotto machines and bitter bites of rainbow ice,
Praying to god-knows-who that the next little red car that whips around the corner
Will pause to long enough to take in the view of the bay, the little seams of light,
Giving us the change to spring up and run back to the park,
Which is technicolor-bright today, so clear it makes your eyes ache
When the wind brushes across your face and the sand from the playground kicks up
In little clouds of gnats and plastic dinosaurs over the egg-yolk sun

So bright I want to rip the books out of your hands,
Throwing them down on their spines so they spew
Frames of reference, freedom riders, food for thought
To brush aside with the souls of our feet, the backs of our hands
As we fall laughing to the soft grass

And in some dark room somewhere, you are taking off my clothes
Your hands sliding down the knots in my shoulders, the kinks in my spine,
And somewhere else, on some quiet street, I am slamming the car door shut
Simply because the paint is cardinal red and I just can’t stand
The way you drive with only one hand on the wheel.