Frankie Cosmos
I am a convertible girl and he is
skinny, wrapped up in cotton self deprecation, singing love songs to himself
We were alley rats beneath a 12:37 moon
with our backs to the fools below
I liked his grin more in the glare of taillights
there was a gentleness
to the slope of his shoulders hunched
in my passenger seat
two planets suddenly orbiting
the same sun
on a highway headed north
and between the Springsteen, PBR, and smoke
I found a dissolution of two summers past
the ones where I had lied and drank french 75s on cliff tops facing the sound
pining for angel rust or a compass or subjective worth
within empty pacific winds and
Red roof inns of past lovers
shaking like fish on the shore
Steady (steadier), now
I know that I'm a coward
the same way I know you haven't changed
it resonates in the emptied corners of November
shivers in the back of my mouth
tastes like salt and regret
like gutted cities
like snow in a cemetery
You were every beige curtain variable I woke up to
each time more harrowing than the last
leaving April scavenged and pale
I press on the gas, ten miles over the speed limit
the horizon is made up of red lights
smog screen stars
Brake, steady now
He laughs in the dark at whatever
wearied thought has leapt to its demise
from my tongue, landing
splat
in the hollows of his ears
teeth still white in the dark
Nondescript neutral colored cars
shooting by
exhaust making meteor tails
in the dark
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