an evening without gas

it feels like the road
leaves strewn
asphalt rocks severed

tires
tires
tires

combustion without fire
exhaustion without sweat
resolution without enough paint

pain and all
of its friends
on the sidewalk

not a blue in light
except that car next to another car
way down the way

there's no sight for this horizon
this long longitude
defiant the thorns

on the compass rose