I promise to love him roughly. 
Restraint and desperation all 
Bundled up in his button down, I’m 
fixing his collar, 
the air has gotten colder, 
steaming out of our mouths in 
one tangled wisp. 
Fixing my head right, hoping 
to see the same Orion from down 
here, through roof. Counting my blessings.

I’ll be the king of the road and 
he’ll be my everything.
I can make out the threads on 
his shirt, stains of existence,
a guitar’s acoustic 
twang caught at the back of my throat.
Bright, violent daylight 
caught on the camera and riding 
down the mountain range. 

Caught in cotton and denim movement
as begged moments, 
cuff links fraying, historically
we are a wish on a rock skipping,
unsteady balance on gravel, 
his engine disappearing 
behind bird songs.