Stationary at Midnight

From the backseat of my car
you dip a cigarette
into the night’s deep pool
the ripples of ash
fall away like whispers of rain
or skin –
the way people tiptoe into dust
in the corners of their smooth floors.
Someday we’ll all leave each other
and I’ll never know
what your eyes are trailing off
Perhaps some deep forested mirage
leading a path away
from these soldiering lights
or some dream you’ve had
on the tip of your tongue but have yet
to speak to the light.
We’re the only car in the lot.
12 a.m.
The radio blasts bluebirds

Amidst the shadows your eyes
open up into pale opals
you lean and bend against the cracked window
as if opened anymore
you’d follow your own exhaled smoke out the door
just to see where it could go

Between songs I hear our lungs breathing
I hear the life we lose and gain
with each minute
You don’t know I’m watching you,
that you have the kind of mind
I’d take a jewel hammer to
tap lightly, invite open, a robin’s egg.

And as I hold your face up
to my light’s eye
translucent shell
I see the pulse of a tidal pool
rolling in and out with air
I see the silhouette of each new breath
Your blood is made of gold filament
and I wish I could capture this forever
your green glow
your blue-green glow
like sea water lit from below

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