driving w/o headlights

i hovered like a helium balloon.
wore a veil of metal & weeds.
garbage summer & the mar stumbling
like a pile of papricka. blowing soot
from the window. i remember what it took
to dislodge my car from snow last year.
the gods perching on their clouds
& shedding images, as they must.
becoming the vessel of tradgedies
& canned sardines. space above the fridge.
my hand searching for you shoulder 
in the dark. hills pulsing like
the wings of a sting ray. our ocean
is only an inhale away. how long
can you survive in a nest of your own
absences? i wanted a lover of flesh
& what i recieved was a field of oils
of all kinds. walnut oil & vegetable oil
& engine oil. the urge to be bright.
reveal where the deer keep their holy books.
shadow puppets of antlers & gold.
the night creatures hidden on the sides
of the highway. no one else in the world
is awake right now. it is just me
& the promise of green signs. motels 
with neon mouths. the gas station ahead
is a mirage. really a swamp. 
really a pocket of dinosaurs. i keep going
look for any signs of sea gulls.
water fills the bottom of the car 
& then is gone with the tide. in the glove box
is a photo album. i want you to see
exactly how a shadow can become 
a traveler. sitting in the backseat
without any shoes on. i used to want
to walk everywhere with 
my eyes closed.