Poetry for Free

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

LAST FIGHT

He ran the engine ragged, true to form,
but silly highway tricks could not distract her.
She asked again: return her to her dorm.
As if he’d picked her up atop a tractor.
So he just u-turned back, without objection;
no college boy, but still: he knew from fated.
He’d always known her road went one direction;
he’d lost her dust the day she graduated.
She’d thought she needed something that he had;
she’d thought she needed him to keep her real,
but, absent stars, the bad boy just looked bad.
On city streets, a wheel is just a wheel.
She couldn't quite come up with what to say.
He revved the engine as he drove away.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home