Gary Condit

We went and left the dog on the highway median Glaring sky to map microbial floaters against But it grew dark as we sat ‘hind a car that wouldn’t let us pass The child in the back wouldn't quit waving her doll’s arm I said “from the age of six this boy did not want to live” The passing of time hasn’t changed your dad’s pained expression I felt our diners and our movie theaters in poisoned nighttimes Intumescent and crawling Nonlocalized awakenings Memory’s strange abbreviation In that other time before I knew you My parents fell asleep bathed in wavering blue Some breathing dogwood trees lined the street Swaying white and pink Carpeting the canopied hall The shared nightmare of your shut room on a rail Through the absence in the morning Hole in histories We made for some show Pulled off to the side when rain came prismatic, spreading the headlights Then you drove me home Is it teeth-shaking polyphony, grace, and completion? Or nothing?