Squirrels racing through brushes
watched the Volkswagen driving us in circles,  

Lights from dreams of Amsterdam
blinded us through the windscreen,  

from the Eiffel to china that splintered
in parties never started,  

we learned things we don’t do are
consequential as the ones we accomplish,  

As lights once poured in from the clerestory,
where we held silence that rattled  

the grisaille windows. Moon dined with us,
shedding skin cells in the moving car.  

In the night as black as the Neanderthal’s face
that understood its youth 

we shared Budweisers by the pool
Mars soaked in the suns of our eyes,   

Watched him roll tobacco and he said, “Leaving.
Leaving is a choice no one wants to make and it  

makes us anyway”. Then, smoke rose up.
Then, no one was there.