I-27

I want to be a highway when I die
Not in the next life
But in the one you live now
My bones, white washed by sun
Massaged by pick-up trucks
Will strong and steady hold you up
And guide you on your way
I want to be a highway when I die

The Past Is In Our Presence

I

Nostalgia rests in dusty places,

Patient

Slow

Unwavered.

It faithfully waits for years--

a lifetime--

For you to make a move.

II 

If we are two separate people,

Save little DNA,

How do I see your face in mine

More every passing day?