Part 1: Shallow
We did nothing but
fight over the radio
the whole way
through the desert,
heading East like
gamblers on the run.
He's never ready
to leave before
the welcome has worn out,
but I finally felt like I was
back in motion,
speeding across the highway in
the truck that smelled like him.
Killing the air conditioner.
Letting the sand come in through the window.
Breathing shallow.
And I like watching life
like I am passing through it.

Part 2: Nevada
Somewhere in Nevada,
he asks me what it was like
while he was gone and I
had the whole bed to myself.
I answer that, some nights,
I rolled over and held onto a pillow
that was where he should have been.
Some nights I slept on my back
for the first time in years.
But most nights I just spread out
and took up all of the space in the bed
because I could.
And maybe since we were in Nevada,
we should stop in Vegas and
play some cards,
see a show,
drink outside in the lit up night.
But he can't stop
moving once he's started,
so we drove straight through.

Part 3: Utah
On the Utah border,
I ask him if he really
loved me most of all,
if i was the most
satisfying thing
that pounded through his veins.
He stops the truck.
looks at me.
Doesn't answer,
because, I guess, what
do you say to that?

Part 4: Tomorrow
He has sticky cola lips
And kisses that make me
black out.
Years from now
when I am sitting in a
parked car,
I will close my eyes and
remember how I
shot across the land
with this boy who makes me
shake.

Part 5: Wyoming
We cut up into Wyoming
where the rocks scare me
and I won't get out of the truck
because there might be snakes.
We've been driving for 30 hours and
we're salty and needy.
It is
so dark
and endless
outside.
I feel open like that inside, too.
I tell him that it's not too late to
point the truck North,
head towards unchecked white ice.
How nice it would be
to not be cluttered,
to go as far north as we can,
to drive off the top of the earth
into the atmosphere,
to just take all of this
as far as it will go.
When he smiles in the dark,
I become particles
and and float to the northern sky.

Part 6: Home
Five years after this trip,
I will wake up
from dreams of him.
Electified
with wet lips and sweaty
palms.
Missing him,
like I always did.

Part 7: Conclusion
We reach Pennsylvania
and it's the end of the line.
I'm sitting on Joel's porch,
watching the truck drive away,
trying to capture
the open sky inside
of me.
Wanting to sleep
and forget about
stories of the desert.