Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Thirty-five

Prohibitive as the concrete meridian
where the onramp meets

the buckled, sagging freeway.
The thought of sex is as distant

as the Honda Civic, tan, up ahead;
it weaves from lane to lane.

You should have a little house in Amador
by now -- such as the one to which

your friends invite you sometimes:
microbrews in the hot tub,

off-color jokes under sugar pines.
Stars wheel above, but you

have kind of fallen out of love
with astrology.  A little girl

stares from a passing truck.
A baby, not an upbraiding.

No comments:

Post a Comment