Down the dark highway
no street lights
at Ste-Anne-des-Plaines
far away from the city
houses spread across acres
arenas in between lovers
new development
paper chandelier homes
lights off
brand new McDonald’s
and coffee shops roam
in the middle of the forest
that once used to be free.

My mindful state
plays duets
and their sexy voices
make the dark
blacker-
I welcome the fear
with yellow lines
of brick road
the sky painted an indigo
blue, the crescent moon
smiling at me
wickedly.
Distant Saturday night
in the grips of motherhood
panic on the ice
she talks about sweet sixteens
exam notes
and I reread her essay
pointing out her mistakes
ancient gods and Christianity
there’s more to it than google
Understand what you read
But she says, next time
you’ll read it first.
The other moms stare
clearly them have no idea
I can write, edit,
correct, understand English
like they understand cooking recipes,
I talk to her like a friend,
she shows me
how Facebook accepts files,
and I tell her
that technology
and libraries are polar opposites now.
The moms are more interested in 4:00
appointments at the best nail salons
and I’d rather talk to an eighteen
year old
about education
media
than the latest black nail-polish color
(Aubergine vs. black cherry).

If she only knew how
my shade of black
is as deep
and dark as the highway
coming here
and a poem is building
up in me
at this scene
as my son grabs a pen
to write a birthday card
and then I drop them off
at the party
and they kiss and laugh
like teenagers should
tell me details, I ask
And he tells me how
her zipper on her dress
kept unzipping
and as they danced
Twirled, zipped
over and over.
I laughed
and
I thought
you’re my favorite song is in their eyes.
They fell asleep
in the backseat
and right before
he asks me to find
Yellow Ledbetter
which I play
at two in the morning
chauffeuring love
from town to town
along those yellow lines
and green signs.
Alas,
before I know it,
I fall asleep
and I dream of
coming over
because I miss you
more than you will ever know.