just a little shit-talk

silence fit nice with the
still of July dusk and you
on your cruiser a few
feet nearer the canyon than
me on my roadster. flat
asphalt made you nod without
looking at me. I don't see
why I wouldn't have told
you a story. we just met.
I wanted you to know me but
your head dipped then
a bit. your face sloped
seemed you already did.

under
cottonwoods there was a
dance of silhouettes where
the road began
to furl up the hip of the
mountain which had been
yellow sun and now
in dimmer air held the
glow of that day. shades constant
while I loved you more
sometimes and sometimes less.
I could tell at a bend
for a snack because i
saw your eyelashes
quake in the still.
later your fist
tightened on handlebars when
I just couldn't drop
the subject. you must
have wanted to beat me.
I was watching you
when I sped over the slick
mud and you laughed when
I fell then swerved in
my tracks and hit too. you
were still laughing.