Audience

She sticks a camera lens out
the window to help her remember
all the things we pass by on this drive
to the other side. Flocks of sheep,
and cattle flicking insects with their
tails we lean against the rails,
and count the lights we see.
A moldy gas station in the middle
of the night is our oasis in this
rolling snake of road,
and nothing lightens the load
like the way her eyes match up
with all the distant signs
for different dreams.
While we sit across from each other
at a rest stop picnic table
in the pitch dark she promises me.
One day when we can barely remember,
she will give this trip back to me,
and she will see it for herself
again as well. I listen to the cicadas
chirping madly in the trees, and then
I tell her I will see it everyday.

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