A head rests against my lap,
and it's not yours, this cart is fast asleep;
a midnight train, the frost and moon
conceiving bioluminescence;
cherry blossoms alongside melted glass
rivers; snowcapped trees, family statues,
little homes with buttery lantern glow,
cavernous fireflies, glimpses of Autumn;
pumpkins, cinnamon, brevity.

Thinking of all the hours
spent together, months gone,
parking lots and neon mosaics;
we fell visiting the Salton Sea,
found geniuses in Bombay Beach
who could change the world,
but are content selling shells.

My heart became simple,
you called love a farce,
shattered the porcelain
urn that held my father,
wailed in apology;
and she awakes, dreamlike,
kneading my chin,
commenting on how
I look like a writer
staring out the window.