I

northbound you were there

on the i-5 in the bushes sticking out like a petal in December.

ragged and wreathed, you are more than my wine bottle you are

under the skin, all over the highway, on my windowsill.

northbound you were there

and i was sulking like my father, all bruise-yellow and blue. 

undressed and in heat you are more than my agenda you are 

my entire week-

 

northbound you were there

in my sweaty palms like tear streaks;

I brushed you onto my jeans. 

BY MICA GREEN