Childlike

And this is what I live for:

lit moon in a dark sky,

looking out the back window

with the light so

bright

the trees are

reflected in the back

of the truck

and you can see without

really seeing.

The quiet murmur of my

step-mom

singing to the songs

on the radio,

letting her breath

out in sighs.

I’m shutting my eyes

and the road

is unfolding in

circles

behind us.

I’m thinking of you.

Even more about how

this is what

I live for:

My brother is buried

in my lap,

snoring,

and I’m thinking

about how my leg is

running along his hand

and I’d die not to

wake him up.

I’d die a thousand times.

My dad drums his

fingers

along the steering wheel.

I follow the rhythm with my

feet.

He keeps switching

the beams,

letting the high ones

light the shadows.

He turns them off and

tells us that the moon

is bright enough to

light the street.

We scream and he laughs

and waits for

a rhythm to turn

them back on.

And we’re thinking

and driving

in circles

and I feel you

under my skin.

I bat my eyelids

in the dark of the car,

and it’s almost easy

to feel beautiful.

And this is what

I live for.

Well,

and you.