Black Fleece

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
     oil addicts 
     big boys with bigger toys 
     & proud minivan owners clogging the left lane.  

I remember you  
     said once 
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

     black fleece

a gift from you, one last memory
to discard out the window

& release into the dying night.