It was
you wouldn't know
unless you've driven across it
alone or married
slow or fast
singing church hymns after the radio broke
19
alone in the car
dog in the back seat
and his face
reassuring
nudging the back of my neck
every lonely moment
I mean every
other moment so alleluia I'm full
of cracks and songs and words
lately mostly cracks
wondering why church songs
are so vastly sad
You know the way
the streetlights look
lining the highway around
That sweet
electric yellow
promising a warmth not delivered
against white twilight and the sleet
its susurrus clean
with light
just after Fairmount stopping for dinner
22
I needed a
semester off
I understood
I'm the one they
look for (anyone truckers cops)
if they're looking because you can always
tell
the ones who are running from something
not just driving someplace
to see somebody
anybody, as long as
they have lampglow
so sweet and yellow
your eyes glaze at the thought
you're such a fuck-up
it's ok though the radio works this time
26
it was 5 days post wedding that I cried
all the way through
I'd been reading
Jung
writing all my dreams down
I dreamed it was
the apocalypse
and in real life
was a sunshine emerald
we'd never see such a green again
and in real life you
needed to see James Dean's grave
James Dean's
grave just regular and pink flecked
with other stone
smacked all over with lipstick prints
Fairmount was
like a dream
I tapped my foot
on a wood porch painted blue
you were talking to a guy with Elvis hair
getting directions
to the grave
I've always liked
graveyards
how people care for the dead
the sun hit me so hard in the face that day
that I stopped crying and squinted
at you
taking your hat off paying
your respects
while I just tried
to think of a prayer big enough
to hold us
there
Jessica Morrow
is a poet currently living in