i caught the first whiff of your signature scent
there was another time when I was riding in the back of a VW bus while the couple who owned it argued up front. that was somewhere in the eastern seaboard, south of DC if my memory serves me right.
which it usually doesn't,
or how she will never leave a mark, a scar, something written
on the skin only meant for that awkward moment
between the two, and the three, and all the others waiting in the shade, in the alley
at the bus stop the following morning, cuando la luz se te cruza en el camino
and then finally, there was the time nobody knew how to start all over again. and we all did what we thought we were expected to, drink a little more, stare across the bay, the harbor, or whatever body of water keeps us apart, and wonder if we left right now we might just be able to make the last train back to …nowhere.
a quiet moment between the cars
where solitude is the undisputed king
of games not finished before our ultimate destination.