Harvey, ’93

This one summer,
The days were so hot.
To get to town I drove a stovetop steering wheel
Burnt to the touch.

But at night, at night.
Thirty minutes in the car
Euro pop on the cassette player
Windows open to desert air
I could drive and drive.

In fast food parking lots, or
By the water
Down where tourists climbed a big green snake,
I met you in my ratty blue sweater
And we’d go, we’d run and run

I’d go anywhere back then.

Eighteen and the boat was always trembling
Unsteady for the waves
Couldn’t take a step without falling
But still.

For that blue sweater
For the wagon with its broken door
For that half hour drive into town
Scanning crowds in a nighttime parking lot,
Harvey Avenue, 1993.
What I wouldn’t give.