[John Riley]

Before The End

You didn’t care what I said about change, were beyond
care or worry the night we pretended not to know
the way home and sat on the old car’s hood that sloped
down each side and leveled out over the headlights.
Sitting on my side, I wondered why you agreed
to be there with me or to be anywhere with anyone.
The skin on your face stretched over the strain
of anger that never left, trembled
amidst the thin late-night-dark.

Why did you hide from everyone but me, back when
we thought time was a pattern not yet understood.
I wish there were more to remember from that night
than the feel of the engine cooling, and trying to recall
if the moon was out, but it must have been, or how else
would I remember your eyes held mine
as we each slipped off our sides of the hood.