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.