Vow

Silver stereo feedback scrapes the wooden
hallway walls and we regress back decades
caught up in the tapes you scatter
everywhere while freaking out.

I clear the ice off the wagon
and watch you stare at me through
the outer door until I signal
that the car is finally warm.

Stone stairs carry us up into the courthouse
where we spread ink around.
The paperwork like grass blades
on our fingers as we flip across it
once then hand it back forever.

You ask if we can see the top of it
while pointing to the garage
on our way out and so we walk up,
past our beat up wagon,
to the top floor and look around
at all the brick and smoke
and vow that we will always
stay away.