by Walden Brooks
Going one fifteen chasing
a big moon caught
among the slate and pink
racing into fading night
a thread of light
on the rearview horizon
vultures wheel over bleeding mountains
casting shadows over cold sand
your feet in my lap
my hand tracing
circles on your thigh
skirt hiked up, hair blown back
howling out the window
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Walden Brooks is a poet from Minnesota. You can find him looking for trout in your local creek and on Twitter @chillerguylife