skadoosh!

the reasoning of this poem is simple. It's about the irony of spending an awesome weekend with someone and finding the absolute joy in the ending of said weekend. It's the tired ride home.


Week's end.

Your fingertips fall from lap.
Reflexed knuckles play savior
as your descending hand fastens to mine

Slow rides home on Sundays
This is what I savor
Relishing switching lanes as
I weave into traffic
extending my "shortcuts"

The mirror mentions my enjoyment.
I've seen this face before.
Old photos of first birthdays
Bandaged body parts chased by brief kisses.

Have to close that window
as I assume that breeze is too much
for your resting face.
Just beautiful.
You shouldn't deal with anything but dreams.