28 from the Point
to Fox Chapel
you can feel
the sky race and
laughter echo
against the windscreen.
Rain waits for no one.
Road noise is beautiful.
Late for the kings
meeting on tennis courts.
"Turn on your headlights."
"In a minute,
we're almost there."
Rain waits for no one
and the road noise
is heartbreaking.
Come far enough
into the sticks and
cul de sacs and
almost anything goes.
"I've been waiting all my life-"
"I hate that song."
The first sign of the apocalypse,
word is, stars falling
from the sky.
Put gloves on
after keys leave the ignition.
Out paced orange
tulip street lights
to the middle of Chap town.
Everyone is here.
Everyone who should be.
The queen with her
lighter bright pink
that no one borrows.
The prince, collar up,
new black and neon shoed.
The knight, hood drawn.
The bishop sunglassed
despite a lack of moon.
The jester already barrel rolling.
The horsemen car hoods ticking
and noses itching.
Birds are chirping
the minutes. Trees are
playing their branched songs.
The kingdom rises
from the Spring wet earth
though crowns will be
surrendered tomorrow.
Tonight, in costume,
we arrive
black, white, and red all over.
