chugging along the narrow streets
between metal barrier and wisps

of weeds along the edge of concrete
mystery sedans pass proximally

close and the rush of wind against
shirt the rush of your arm against

me we flirt walking toward eventual
destination through sleeping hoods

nestled in the hills overlooking the
Allegheny and when we get where

we thought we wanted to go the bar
is purple and loud so we sneak to

play a fishing game in which you
get the quarters and I get us caught

(originally published in Perhappened, Spring 2020)