Avenues and Alleyways
           
There are nights
me and Rianna
just drive around
listening to
   A   New   Found
Glory,   Fifteen,
     Nine      Lives.
In Ransom,
stop
    under the overpass,
honk
    three times,
wait
    for the ghost –
    an escaped mental patient.
                  Watch out, she might
                     possess you. She needs a
                       way out, and you’re  
                    driving.  I tease her.
               Shut up. She yells.
                    Tires     stammer
                           against gravel
   when we loose our nerve.
Near Semi-Ghetto BiLo
idling at a stop light
   we roll up the windows
lock doors.
Has that car been following us?  
         Why are they beeping?
      Are they rolling
down their windows?
Shit.
   We peel away
          before the light turns green –

                                                exhale
when we can’t see
headlights anymore.
Giant’s Despair  :
We only get out of the car
         half of the time –
when we overcome
our fear learned
from slasher movies.

          We climb the boulders
             by feel,
         more careful
                      of broken glass than the drop
    off the other side.

We sit on the highest
rocks, looking over
the trees, past
the highway, down
    into the valley.

Sometimes we talk
sometimes we sit there
                                  not talking.