Socrates

Backseat
Str-angel

Hey angel,
Where’d you hide that key?

I saw it,
but when your eyes met mine
the shadows driving your black chariot

reached out for
mine,
fried, black by purple love
torn— tight, twist and trying—but, now, off
and as the night lights snap me
back—in, to waking—

You blush, brushing blonde locks
back beyond the sweet folds of pink ear lobes and—

say

Angel

where’d you put that key..?

A white hi tears out from chest
and as the waves
break over your
rosing cheeks I think

sure! you were mine,
but your eyes, close, and that chariot
carries
you off
to some sunless, endless, nightset.

Dark shards of my heart
hear your tale,
strung tin cans
crashing to gray pavement below.

But as the lit cigarette falls twice from my lips
a cold key drops to closed palm
and I wonder how long you’ve been waiting...