Hours after the gym went dark & the prom music
Sank to tuneless humming or half-dreamt
Memory, the Neon flamed pink, then hell-white.
By moon-set, a charcoal shell the deer
Step around, wary of its dark heat. This May

Three white crosses glimmer, sink, then leap
Into the halogen arc of headlights
As they sweep the bend. Beyond, the forest
Is black as the pupil of an eye,
Absorbing all light.

Maybe it’s the longing for some
Thing not thing, & pure, pure
As geometry, the siren song
Of the absolute: the exact
Sine curve of the road

In the austere white shadow
Of moonlight. The strident
Beat of the music takes the whole car
In its fist. The speed, whatever it is,
Is not enough, & arcs upward

But not with perfection to match
The simplicity of this curve
So inhuman, so beautiful
It seems to rise out of this world.