Behind the wheel

camel brown leather seats
that aim to pinch
my thighs. driving
to drive
between
dunes of sand,
a collage of beige.
the sight caused
the taste of bile to
tickle my tongue,
but was the only
thing that felt
like home.

11:30 p.m.
windows rolled
down, in a
parks parking lot.
Misty croons
as cigar smoke
vanishes
through my teeth,
and to the sky.

the sun is setting
over curved horizon.
My last voyage of indulgence.
tears taunt me,
but never
overcome the
ridges of my brown
canyons
that remain fixed
on the flat earth.
i howl out the window
so this Place won’t forget
about me.

speeding down I-290
the windows down always
fighting
off the suffocation
crawling up my throat.
I tighten my jaw
and trap it inside.