Poem 4

In honor of Derek, the man behind the awesome photos at
the munky house, this poem is better than half-done: we're looking at a 5/8ths-complete poem. I hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving. This is another driving poem.

After a Movie in November

Warmth crawls over the hills.
The 20’s of November, closing to 30,
and the chill can almost fade before
it’s night again and the stars
mock us, bundled huddles,
buzzing through the parking lot
of the cinema,
our footsteps rapid-fire.
The car sits and waits
deciding to reverse,
when once it had leapt from
driveway and parking spot.
Leaf shadows and moon slipping
over dry paint and chrome,
tires on dry gray and black:
We ride past teeth of frosty grass
whiter in moonlight by far
than teeth in your smile,
but not the skin on your cheek.
Your head on window
leans against your reflection,
and I find only engine-churn
and clicking turn signal to say
what this all means.