Saying Goodbye to a Friend
       

Not needing a fire but starting one
because we already had the wood.
The smoke becoming women,
then a deep fog with men disappearing
into the ground.
The sound of low country music,
behind that the sound of crickets.
The driver tipsy,
backing into cholla,
a piece in your friend's leg,
then rolling around,
poltergeist in the truck bed.
Out of the headlights,
you shrink
into the lit end of your cigarette.

Tweet

Copyright © 2017 Danielle Hanson All rights reserved
from Ambushing Water
Brick Road Poetry Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission