Wayfarers

Sylvie A Few More Hours,

brighter, a boy clean

as sunshine beaming at me. Could be

his satellite a little longer.

Could buy him breakfast

in a red booth diner, good excuse

to look at him. God, I want him

to be looking at me. Guilt at that

but the dream of it takes over, drizzling

syrup all over my waffles

while the waitress refills our coffees

and he’s sneaking glances I pretend

not to see while I scheme how to get us lost

on the straight-shot highway

about to take him away from me.