New beginnings deserve a quiet night.
Every lamppost reveals our reflection,
in the windshield and open windows.
I’m pining for the moon.
Swimming through the street curves,
the glassy glow of the city,
winding roads and endless vines.
September’s ending soon.
Somehow with your hand on my thigh,
and singing to the radio,
I finally liked the road I was on,
along a damp, chill mountainside.
Somewhere between running in the rain,
and you picking muddy flowers,
I ceased to be a depleted woman,
and somehow became yours.
As you drive, a blur of illumination,
the headlights dipped in vodka,
and I’m safer than I’ve ever been.
The moon is bright tonight.