last night I had a poem inside me, I lost it on the highway
in the Christmas of red and white continuous light
on either side
there were other thoughts, in other cars - their webs spun & ready
the wind beat against my window, holding the tail of it --
"there's still time"
but I just looked back at you, driving.
hands sure, your unsmiling lips somehow
still holding,
kind.
and remembered this sizzling, poppin' n' fizzing
feeling
and could have written
pages and pages and instead
just
burned