gas station blues

fluorescent baptism,

your skin gone silver

under the humming.

we are the only ones

alive at this hour —

you and me

and the moths

drunk on all that light.

bare feet on concrete

still breathing out the day's heat.

you lean against the hood

like you've got nowhere,

like nowhere is enough.

petroleum and night-blooming jasmine,

your cigarette a second moon.

i watch your throat move

when you swallow the cold

from a bottle still sweating.

the pump clicks off

and neither of us

reaches for it.

what i mean is:

i'd stay in this nowhere

with you.

i'd let the tank overflow.