At the End
We never made it to the coast.
I never saw you.
Rivers changed course without warning
or did we have warning?
Maybe we ignored the warning.
My car was swept away.
I believed I could steer through water
in the middle of the road,
I felt traction and imagined
telling you this story when we met
of how close I came to sliding
in my car with the rest of the cars
to the rocks below
and I imagined your slick jacket
against my face because you said you always
wore something like a rain jacket
because we all wore rain jackets
by that part of the century— the ubiquitous rain
of our century— and my surprise when you
bent your head down and continued down
to kiss the nape of my neck,
soft wet different from rain wet.
I thought of your lips as my car fell through the air.
Could you hear the music? ‘It’s the end of the world as we know it.’
Every car’s stereo was playing it.
How I might have laughed at our predicament.
I nearly gave up
but then the rain paused
and I thought a break in the clouds
could save us—hope is eternal, isn’t it?
I wished for a moment I would see you
and I would be seen by you
like in your dream
where we met on the coast.