I don’t let myself drive past dark
The black sky
Moonlight
Dozing off through passing lights.
If my eyes close
I fear
I’ll let them be.
I used to let go of the wheel,
Waiting until the last second
To dodge a street light
And pull myself back to the road.
It would be so simple
Let go
Look away
Let go.
You and I
were once the two separate sides
of the same electrical cord;
often tangled between each other,
building knots and kneading bundles of bridges
on top cedar, oak and birch floorboards.
There are old journals on my bookshelf
blank pages at the back
filled with unfinished poetry
similes with no synonyms
metaphors with no meaning
Snow forts built of packed wet flour
in a big orange plastic bowl,
S q i u s h
and unfold like an origami fortune
of milky dough and chocolate chips.
They just keep coming.
No matter how broken I feel,
No matter my pleas,
They just keep coming.