Most of the time, this is
unremarkable. I feel indifferent.
To imagine the red-pocked
canyons on your fingerprints.
Over a lifetime. Numbness
settles like fog over the road
when slow moving tail lights
materialize and I see your adult
body, long and lithe enough
to fill a bed, or your hand,
hooking a steering wheel.
May neither be your grave.
Gulf Stream Magazine 