Surrender/Midnight Blue (Of Course I Still Write Poems)

Blue gray
Thunder red and
The tread, the dread, the
Tires, the soul tires.

At the gas station, I remember
A man as he taught an eager boy how some
One pumps gas. The boy needed
Two hands to hold the handle
Steady. I think about that moment,
Or a moment between us when
Plastic was light itself, your smile my
Happiest confident child’s toy.
You, one of the firmest hands I
Have ever felt clasp me by handle.

I mean, you can just fucking
Kidnap me, Alex. I have been always
Already ready.