I leave Viejas with another woman
who is not you,
a lightless moon
an empty void
where the billfold once bulged.
We gamble with traffic on Interstate 8
slice across El Cajon like a box cutter
the wide open windows
spill Eddie Vedder’s vocals into the night.
All I hear is her laugh
like a firecracker, her energy
explodes into the accelerator
steers the Volvo viciously over all lanes
the bobs & weaves
around drunken shoppers
big boys with bigger toys
& proud minivan owners clogging the left lane.
I remember you
there is too much El Cajon in El Cajon
too much concrete
too much crime
the endless sprawl
thirsty for immortality
hungry to prove
we existed, we were more
than ashes in history.
As the lamp posts wink at the stars
I offer this
a gift from you, one last memory
to discard out the window
& release into the dying night.