Buc-ee’s at 3 a.m.

 

We relent
to the lure of adventures
under blue night sky,
indulge
in the gluttony
of a pre-dawn brisket sandwich
 
and stay loyal to this,
our tired-wired spontaneous
highway survival pact
 
communing
with the fellow travelers here:
awake,
embracing the world of flesh and fluorescent lights,
soaking in
this brief comfort,
respite
from the cruel asphalt
and nonstop drive
 
outside,
standing on stained pavement,
pontificating in
half-lucid lateness chatter
before the pagan idol
of a bronze beaver,
 
we dine like kings
and feel alive.

Clarion Call of the Solstice Saints

laughter

to cut through

curls of sweet smoke

all-day wine glasses

stand sentry

to convening

of old friends

sultry spring night

as Earth turns to slumber

and

we burn

our candles

on both ends

blazing nightlife

glorious

with maniacal laughter

cascading

in knowing cackles

until morning comes

to say good-bye

Wedding After Party

a last pocket of survivors

in a quiet world

we lift our glasses,

toast the happy couple

3 a.m. on empty roads

that glisten and smell like spring

traffic lights click away

and do their color dance

for random strangers

we stagger and sway

chatter for the newlyweds

having their wedding night

a friend throws money

into our new used truck

to bring us children

and a bit of luck

we climb in

and drive

to the next adventure