Here Lies You & Me
We used to drive in your old mustang
the one with the "Marines are better" bumper stickers.
The summer I turned 21 was the year my best friend
killed himself. It was also the year
You left me. But there wasn’t a funeral.
If I were a girl placing flowers on the grave of her lover
I would designate placing one each month
on an unmarked grave and pretending it was yours.
I have a picture of you
between the speedometer and my steering wheel. I wake up
crying sometimes. The fan whirring.
Moths desperately throwing their soft bodies
against the screen.
I go out to my car just to make sure
you're still there.