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.