curtains back           through wide glass
I watch as her silver sedan circa '99 winds
the half-circle to that black interstate
next to that 24/7 diner
under that see-through mini-gown of stars --
varying shades of infinity;
I turn on the radio to add one more.

smell of you baby, my senses, my senses be praised

into the bathroom            humming light, speckled mirror
to wash her salty tide from my forehead
and I feel young
and I feel lion
and I feel slow, contained fire
spilling from fingernail,
rising from aquamarine carpet to popcorn ceiling.

kissing and running, kissing and running away

before she left,
"sorry for making you the mistress in all of this."
and I said,
"you can pick the mistress."
her lips on my shoulder blade
then her coat in her hands,
her hand on the permissive doorknob
then cast toward the endless
not looking back,
but

maybe she will.

*no one will bar you
nothing will stand in your way
nothing
there's nothing