As far back as I can see,
there’s no one coming, just
a long, long stretch of Iowa road
unwinding behind me. No trace
of what I’m leaving — a house
I need to believe is full of absence.
We always made love in the dark
in case we needed to pretend
it hadn’t happened.
Dry grass and rusted fences
rush by like bad memories.
I have to keep reminding myself
that I’m the one in motion.
This road’s so straight, all I can do
is accelerate, watch for a sign,
an exit. Still, from time to time,
I adjust the rearview mirror as if
I might catch sight of you, crazy
with pain and desire and change
of heart, gaining on me.