driving through wet canyons
searching for meaning
and chocolate cake
howling and snapping
the fog rolls in
too specific to be a dream
too absurd to be real
a contained hysteria
forged through loneliness
and exasperation

everything is red and blue and yellow
and the diner closes early on sundays
underpasses and trashbags
gritty and ugly
conversations bombastic
short lived
while the rain drips lazy
and the fog sinks lower
racing across town lines
clamoring for cheap fills because
one was not enough
my eyes cannot focus

and she soon leaves
but we have to come back
and we come back to
creep through the hills
and the fog descends
choking the empty spaces
and i sit grinning
terrified as the
night ends with these
fake
houses on a solitary
hill and the fog
still rolling
rolling
down