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.