Last night,
we had six miles
to walk
to where
I parked the truck

the winding road
the mimicking trees
my eyes behind
a pair of shades I
found in the glovebox

Thank god,

I couldn't take my eyes off you
the way you know about
poetry and
art

and you notice how the
light cascades
swims,
over every shade of dark

and you said that I'd be "it"
someday
the last time that we spoke

but now you
walk as though
you've never seen
this ghost
before

but I know you
want me,
all the same.

Six miles to go, but so much more to me.