tail-lights

& you said
that that all
those tail-lights
looked like
strings of christmas
lights lit up
for miles ahead--
red flicker &
blink
in the snow turning
grey--
slush beneath tire--
it's too early
for it to stick--
ground warm
from our boots
& our anixous
cross-walking afternoon--
somehow whenever
we get lost
in the city
it snows & i'm forced
to remember
kissing you in
your driveway &
every light 
grows bolder--
flashing off 
layer after layer
of white-- who
trusted the buildings
to grow so high 
around us? how
trusted
us to become
so old now-- with
our dry chapped hands
& dislocated homes--
when i say i want
to go home i mean
i want to be warm
& to be someone
not stopping
& going-- somewhere
with a windowsill
to lean on & watch
the snow from--
pretend that 
it will all never melt
or turn to ugly
slush seeping into
my socks--
when i say
i want to go home
i think i'm thinking
of my bed & my
three layers of blankets 
& my uncleaned coffee
mug still in the sink--
it's the tiny things
you realize you miss
when you're stuck
in christmas lights--
entangled in
each other-- how long have
we been tail-lights
& how red are we now?
& are the other
cars around us real
or just a large amount
of ghosts also traveling
home from philadelphia 
against their better judgement
on a friday night--
peer into
their windows-- their
shadow mothers faces
pale in iPhone light--
children with their
noses pressed to back
windows-- breathe
fog-- finger print--
their radio-less sounds--
their silent-- pantomime
lives-- each seem
to move slower & slower--
oh i believe
in all these ghosts--
will they follow
me home when i figure
out where that
is? will they 
roll down their
windows & let
the snow over come them--
that what i want to
do-- open the doors &
abandon the car
in the middle of 
the grey grey 
highway-- weave
between ghost
to the side of the road
where the massive
silhouette of
the city smiles
down at her front
porch of tail-lights--
hands in her pockets--
sky-scrapers tall--
she teaches us
how to fall gently
like snow or
sea gull feathers--
feet held up 
by water-- we transverse
the schuykill river
& boat house row
gives us her
murky grin--
wet socks drying
on the heater--
we are home in our
christmas light veins
& somewhere the
car still rolls forward--
ushered along by the other
ghosts on the 
express--
every time we 
go into the city
it snows & we can't
escape but yes i still
think of kissing
you-- blizzard blinded
by love or
maybe it was
just the snow--
follow my tail-lights
home