Tonight, laying still in our passenger
seats, perfumed with jin and donuts,
Jim is our driver and god.
our eyes watch the lights pass,
blurs and dark colored yellow
bounce back and forth from my
side to yours, they flash and
my head aches in these black walls
that extend nowhere and, in the
midst of it all, in the dark, I see
that bright white jut from your pocket
and I can't help but get a little anxious.
Jim puts on the music after realizing
the pounding is only in his head and
the night becomes more alive than it
really is.

---------We get to thinking that
there's others in here besides you
and I and Jim. There's Mrs. Stevens
from fifth grade putting stickers
on her chart, Brad from Chino
who bought you that wrist watch
you never wear, Mr. Day, the
homeless Jew, counting the lamp posts,
and the others crowding this
small space, making impressions
of mothers and fathers in pieces,
their heat, the only thing we could feel.

Then,

suddenly,

------------a pair of headlights
will shine in front of us on occasion
and burn them away, and for a brief moment,
we could see ourselves clearly for a change,
and we get to thinking that seeing anything
is better than nothing so we breath
in deeply this bright white and let Jim
drive this car into darkness.