Jay Pabarue

autozone

among the single windshieldwipers
i wondered about cum,
when next i’d conjure it from that man,
what it’d be to kiss his shoulders again, kiss his hips
unmechanical with mine on light
blue sheets, maybe drool & hair
& solar-powered thighs splitting
to spill much light—

i wondered about weather,
why some trees
lose leaves
at different rates—

all this i confess
led me to leave autozone with
a driver side wiper blade
four inches shorter
than the one that broke

which is why, since i snapped
the new one like a finger into place
the windshield’s had this
unwashed crescent slice of glass

& why anyone
i ride home tonight will get a show,
a flipbook of its dirty moon, flashing slow
as we pass streetlight streetlight streetlight