Vacancy

Vacancy

Awake between them in the front seat,
guardrails flashing past — mother crossing her arm 
over my chest in case of impact, whimpering 
as he barked, Should I smash into this post?

Silent between them, I watched the road
for those neon signs — not the red ones 
flashing No, but the liquid green Vacancy, 
promising, in a night carved from tar, 
someone waited up for us, someone 
had keys for every hook 
and would call us by our names.


Published in Muzzle Magazine, 2014