I did not know it was you at first. You tricked me in your feathered form, a fine white tuxedo and black tie, your dark shoes polished to shine on Mars. You were a god to me but I still didn't recognize you at the lake. You floated out of the dark, froth

My sister says to me, “Put your finger there.” I look at my wrinkled finger and lick the tip. It tastes fresh. My sister says, “Put it there now.”

I think we were supposed to run away with each other long before this. There was that night on the motorcycle, the loud buzzing engine that cracked through the air heavy with rain threat, as we took the backroads and their curves too fast in a rush to get

noses to the ground, snuffling following criss-crossed footprints of deer and rabbits we stop at the edge and stand in silence listening

arms brittled roads forever in need of patching, hearts worn to mist,