Avenues and Alleyways
There are nights
me and Rianna
just drive around
listening to
A New Found
Glory, Fifteen,
Nine Lives.
In Ransom,
stop
under the overpass,
honk
three times,
wait
for the ghost –
an escaped mental patient.
Watch out, she might
possess you. She needs a
way out, and you’re
driving. I tease her.
Shut up. She yells.
Tires stammer
against gravel
when we loose our nerve.
Near Semi-Ghetto BiLo
idling at a stop light
we roll up the windows
lock doors.
Has that car been following us?
Why are they beeping?
Are they rolling
down their windows?
Shit.
We peel away
before the light turns green –
exhale
when we can’t see
headlights anymore.
Giant’s Despair :
We only get out of the car
half of the time –
when we overcome
our fear learned
from slasher movies.
We climb the boulders
by feel,
more careful
of broken glass than the drop
off the other side.
We sit on the highest
rocks, looking over
the trees, past
the highway, down
into the valley.
Sometimes we talk
sometimes we sit there
not talking.