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just might make a U-turn and run.
Headlights. He’s here, and
I’m leaving, no turning back.
The Mustang purrs up the drive,
and the passenger door opens.
Trey leans toward me, smiles,
and there is no baby behind
me, no Mom, stepfather,
little brother. No lef
tovers.
There is only soft black leather,
classic rock on the radio (he
remembered!), the scent of crank-
tainted Brut, the taste of Trey.
The Freeway Is Deserted
Everyone still at their tables,
or catching a football game.
Trey drives over the limit
to Red Rock today, chancing
the odd cop, who doesn’t
materialize. Brad and the girls
are still at the family shindig.
We have the place all to ourselves.
We’re barely through the front
door and already kissing like
there won’t be a tomorrow, and
if there isn’t, this time together
will be worth every irate word
at home. Finally, Trey pulls away.
Do you know how much I want
