Ally’s house is right on the county line.
I could head on south to Madisonville,
then Atlanta, or further to South Beach.
My car is filled with the smell of her
menthol cigarettes, sweet and harsh,
it’s even in my clothes, in my dreams.
Maybe she wants to escape this town,
head to where the action is, where there
is hope for magic or dreams coming true.
I pull into her house, small and sensible,
a tapioca yellow, with an American Flag.
She’s sitting on the steps, smoking in the cold.
I get out of my car and sit beside her, and she
puts her head against mine, and I kiss her head.
She stinks of cigarettes. Her hair smells like strawberries.
Even out in the county wilds there’s too few stars.
But the North Star is up there, and it can guide us.
18 now, both us. legal and free. We could run away.
Pizza joint, back in town, Friday Night, packed place.
She smiles at me, and we play footsie under the table.
We giggle, eat our pizza, pretend we’re not adults now.
Graduation is coming up, and she’s calm. I’m silently exploding.
Maybe she is too. Always seems calm and collected and with it.
Maybe she’s just like me and won’t show distress, let blood in the water.
We drive to the other end of the county, to the mountains.
Above and at night, the city is beautiful, full of magic.
At night anything can happen.
We sit on the edge, and we talk, and we kiss, and look up.
She lets me reach inside her jacket, feel her up above her shirt.
She lays her face in my neck, sighing, her breath hot.
We drive back towards her house, her smoking, smiling sly.
Her favorite song plays on the CD she made me. My heart is full.
If I keep driving all the way to the sea, we will be perfect forever.
I walk her to her door. The light is on. Parents watching TV.
She kisses my cheek, smiles.
She says good night, greets her parents, goes to her room.
This was the last night in Eden.