by Danielle McMahon

Now Playing: Bruce Springsteen “I’m on Fire”

The night we drive through a Walmart Supercenter, a red cartoon devil dangles from your rearview. A palm frond disintegrates on the blue dash. It’s complicated like that. Windows down, the palm shreds itself to bits, swirling through the cab like stardust, like embers tracing our drive this night. O, a midnight deep into salty July and the moon finally sprung. O, the dark head rush of desire. This night we steal away in your Astrovan for stargazing, barreling through the craters of a closed construction site to reach the highest peak in town. The cartoon devil jerks and bobs, winks at me sly, shotgun-side. You chuckle with mischief when you park ass-backwards into the shell of the Walmart Supercenter: Coming Soon. O, your hand sliding down the belly of my jeans and here, this melody scratching at my brain, this gentle lover’s game from another age plucking away on the radio, a mouth of red-hot desire. O, I like the way your name feels full on my tongue. I like the way your thumbprint rides against the ridges of my teeth. I like the secret side of your smile and your eyes as clear as glass. The Astrovan purrs. The headlights go out. Somewhere far off, the yip of a lean coyote, a howl from the leaping stars.

Danielle McMahon’s most recent work has appeared in Street Cake, Major 7th Magazine, and Unlost. She is editor of the engine(idling, an online poetry magazine.