1293

I counted the street lights
and I counted the lights
blue and yellow and orange
and I thought I was back
home
back on rocky
Carolina highways
between trees and fields
painted by green hands
back on
Carolina highways

breath soft and
warm

fogging the
glass

I was going back through
where I never go
some highways split like tongues
kissing between the plains
and the coast

like the hushed crush of
sand underfoot
like the sharp huff of
deer in tall grass

I was going where I never go
I was going where I never go

some place where nothing
had changed
where our backs
slick with sweat
stuck to vinyl booths
where our feet
touched first and last
before removing the sheet

before the sun
came up

I was going where I never go
where we watched the geese
circle splash
and scatter at the
sight of a black dog

my Carolina
my blood
my love
my home