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A certain class of dreaming- finding myself alone on the interstate and then looking backward in the direction toward you.

I found your hand over mine as we laid together on the boat, listening to the urgent stillness of the sea. I found your hand over mine as we made fire, silently, with our eyes.

I awoke to find your hand oceans away. The charred remains of the fire are scattered over the ground, and I toe the ashes with the edge of my boots. I think about curiosities, like how I can’t remember the way your lips feel but I do remember the shapes that the edges of your eyes would fold into when you smiled.

I turn around, the interstate ahead of me. Eyes high, heart still, I walk towards the burning sky.

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