After Reckless Abandon
Image/Michael Cassera
After Reckless Abandon
By Heather Lang-Cassera
We drove east just far enough
to be one time zone closer.
We stopped for fuel,
& waded through
some sort of white light.
We pawed at cans of Campbell’s soup,
a water gun,
a box of Tylenol,
& a superhero
Kleenex box.
We became today’s
postmodern desert outlaws
a strange vying
I would never wish on anyone.
I was silently drowning
one moment at a time,
& it was always to that same
goddamn that’s-not-love song,
which still leaves me wondering
what is set to repeat,
but oh honey, yes, there is water,
still, here in the Mojave.
Versions of this poem were previously published by Architrave, and in I was the girl with the moon-shaped face (Zeitgeist-Press, 2018).