Your memory sinks to the bottom of my mind,
Like the weights my grandfather clamped hungrily around the fishing line
He had unspooled into chaotic little mounds at his feet.
Lost in thought, you appear before me,
Flickering between your world and mine,
A ruminating mirage
Of what was, what is, and what is not yet.
Licking my teeth clean,
I charge after you,
Armor whistling and boots
Crashing into the ground like
The waves at the cliffs of Dover circa 1996.
But as I reach my gauntleted hand out
To brush a stray hair behind the bud of your ears,
You vanish.
And I am left holding the wheel of the car
that cradled your body one last time
after you left this place,
but before you came home to me.
I sigh once, leaning on myself as a pillar
And focus on reattaching the wheel
To navigate the road.
But it’s dark now.
You took the moon with you,
And all that’s left
Is the bitter taste of petrol
And the smoke belched by the carcass
Of the car and boy you left behind.