Roadblocks and stumble rocks blocking all the way
down past the broken down cars
and the twenty-four hour pay.
The moon shines alone, reminding
Her of the unstoppable
Solitude.

She waits an hour his return
with gas and cokes for two.
Watching lovers in the lot,
that pause so often for fear
of getting caught.

I sit on the curb, yet damp from the night.
A stranger fills the air with cigarette smoke
as I utter a passing sigh,
“He isn’t coming back tonight.”