single dashed for passing, we took pisses
on the dividing line of forty-one
just north of the Sharon green. we had built a fire
in the northbound lane and then dragged
a bench over to sit facing
traffic. no cars ever
came. driving home, the lightning flies looked like deer eyes.
in the morning i woke up with a headache and a missed
call from you. it was the longest day
of the year. i heard seasons lag and so
do i. you wanted to talk and i
was thinking about–a remark you made
Here is a picture of where we were hanging out. There were more leaves on the trees that night. It was also darker.
Matthew Bisenius is a poet and musician. As a postrealism poet, he has a Google toolbar on his internet browser. These are the first poems he has had published. He currently prepares food and performs bastard folk music in Maryland. [Guitar on audio track provided by Evan Armstrong]
To read more poetry (including another piece from Matt that is ostensibly an ekphrasis about a cedar tree but is probably really about drugs), order Four Chambers 01 here