I grab the keys to my home on the go,
The place where I spent the last year-
on the road.

The year before is foggy,
just like the windows on my car,
one January evening. The passenger seat
is empty. I breeze by Archer Avenue, approaching
Ashbury coffee house, remembering smoking
American Spirit blues, and flipping cards while
not complaining about the bitter burnt coffee.
All my friends have moved away, but I still
look in my rearview mirror seeing mirages
of the people who were in the past.

In May, the flowers bloom again, I drive
on the open roads, which transformed in a tunnel
of luscious trees, and everything is finally green again.
My birthday rolls around, like it does year to year, but
someone new is beside me, this is so much different from nineteen.
The receipt I held on to since December fell out of my wallet as
I pay for more gasoline. That receipt is the only memento
I have left, from the night you met me.

July brings the sun, and the warmth that I needed.
I go for a drive, and the pavement is dry. The windows
are forever open in my car, and friends finally forget their
busy lives to go for a drive. last year, felt different, as we
have all matured. No matter how old we get, I think
we will always be friends, belting out that sweet catchy summer tune.

In October, I drive the most, thinking of how the year
is winding down. I sip on my latte, and look at my town.
I think about how one day I won’t just be hanging around.
So much has changed in just a short year, but the roads
have not. The passengers change season to season.
I reminisce about the past, but worry about the future.
Will these roads go on forever?

-e.k. fm

When we made love with the record playing.
Our heart beats were in sync.
And the rhythm was sweet.
As we moved to the static of the needle hitting the record.
And we grooved to every chord.
I loved that night and I love that song.
Because you were the right one all along.
The feeling of your body up against mine.
As I traced my fingers up and down your spine.
The record had stopped and the song was over.
But we were so infatuated with each other.
We looked into each others eyes until we drifted off to sleep.
And the next morning you woke up and hopped into your jeep.
I never saw you again, and I wonder why.
For that song was so perfect and that night was so divine.
So I put that record on and listen to it again and again.
And remember the feeling of your hand rubbing my head.
I want you to come back and listen with me.
Oh to that record so soft and so sweet.

something i noticed about myself
is that, for as long as i can remember,
i've always slept on only one side of my bed

i can't help but wonder - maybe it's my subconscious,
leaving room for all the lovers i dream up in my head -
awaiting a second body to occupy the extra space beside me

i sleep on my side, too. often times resembling the shape of a crescent moon.
arms outstretched, reaching to touch imaginary stars, like my nonexistent lover.

and so as the moon, cold, always longing for the safety and cover of the clouds,
the same way i long for holding arms - but instead, alone, in the vastness of the sky.

You had me. At three in the morning. When we sat in the car for hours so we could listen to the rain as it hit the windshield. When the sun was beating on my back, begging for attention. Whenever you'd put your hands in your front pockets and rock back on your heels. When I realized that every step you took caused an earthquake. When you kissed me like your life depended on it. When you said that it did. When you told me you loved me for the first time in a grocery store parking lot. When you'd call me at 2:37 in the morning to tell me that every tree you see reminds you of me. When every cigarette your fingers touched turned to dust. When you told me you missed me too. You had me.

with fingers of sin i had touched your core, unzipped your jeans like locked church doors and swore i would marry you one day.
they say i shouldn't love you anymore, that poems are only for those you adore—but when you left i was naked on the floor, sold my soul to the convenience store, and
to forget a ****** i kissed a *****
kissed my lips and cried no more

3:15am

when i see cars on the road
at this time
(the very few there are)
i always like to wonder;
are they going to pick up a loved one
from the airport?
are they rushing to the hospital
after hearing about an accident?
or are they just lonely souls like me,
searching desperately for an
ounce of humanity,
something to fight for, something to
cherish, something to keep.