Stolen

(for carlos)

I’d like to go out now, in a car
with my friend —a stolen car
with a cigarette smell, I think,
or the owner’s perfume or cologne—
and drive it with the windows down
or let my friend drive; take it down
by the river where the big stones
muscle the bank and stars wink
overhead, tiny, deep in the black
night, reflected in bluesy black
backwater, dark and still. We’d light
one up, sit on stones and dream.
I’d like to go out now, in dark air,
my friend at the wheel, breathing air
down where the rocky river screens
the night, leaves us only starlight.

4 thoughts on “Stolen

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