Love (Or at Least Like-Like)
The taste of caffeine at midnight
And the sound of the sedan’s ignition
Shooting echoes around the Harlem parking lot.
The passengers envision four-day vacations.
My eyelids are anvils, and my heart’s a grenade
I’m thrown to the West to detonate.
The blare of the truck's horns
As I drift at the elbows
Of the outstretched arms of Interstate 80.
The trees outside Ohio
Begin to look
Just like dinosaurs,
Hunched like Tyrannosaurus Rexes.
The wheel surrendered, I recline in the backseat
Eyes shut to the landscape,
But the smell of corn postpones sleep.
We are spreading over now
Like your cancer
Once did.
The food here is garbage, you once told me.
And we laughed.
And we shut up.
And we agreed we’ve never missed anything so much.
An ascending elevator,
A pair of perspiring palms.
An 18 hour lurch to this point on an Iowa map.
The sterilized fourth floor
Of a general hospital
With a specific aim:
We’re all here to see you,
But I’m here to save you.
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