she drives through mile high air
top down on her convertible
there’s nothing to see at 2:00 AM
except cautious flashing lights, at vacant crossroads
and a neon sign or two
ready to fade for the night
after the lounge lizards
crawl away, to their lairs
I envy her, awake in the dark
the cold wind in her hair
going nowhere, while I sit
on the flat oatmeal plains,
calculating losses and gains
like I can place her
in one column or the other
would that put me at ease?
knowing she was more red ink than black
knowing she was a lover of cats
and caffeinated chats
and bedding me was
a horizontal distraction
in her vertical ascent
she was not meant, to walk
on level ground,
or sleep after our mazy mating
she had to see the climb in front of her
press the pedal forward,
and keep her eyes from closing
where sleep would morph into dreams
and she too would have to wake
to another disappointing day