Why reach for my hand, now, in the car,

trying to make these early hours

late, these small hours big, when already

it’s too easy to count the stars, already

the one that warms our faces,

the planet, is climbing toward us like a stronger,

better lover, & dawn is the fiery rose in its mouth—

No. No matter how sad & stupid, I will take

your hand, we will make our spot on the road

night again, night with countless stars or utterly

starless, who cares. All the heat & dream we need

is this, what is happening now, as I squeeze your hand

back, & darkness fills the sky once more,

& our hands tight together form a blue, blue rose.