The Time is Up

We stopped in the parking lot
Of an elementary school
Across from a strip club
Adjacent to a Freemason hall

It was our first road trip

In the back of the car
On a hanger
strung up was your suit

I liked watching you hold on
to the steering wheel
with both hands

The smell of hot fabric seats
Bargain soap
The scent of you on your collar
bouncing between the windows

This is what I think of
when I notice a book
I never finished reading

If you only knew how
The idea of your body
Your curly hair
is tied to my habits



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