Smoking Bones

Two a.m., parked in a pasture 

summer night with the skreeee of crickets

new moon, the dark of the night

is a cloth laid over the fields, laid over us

we’re sharing a joint

lying on the hood of my truck

the radio is playing, but softly and far away now

we can feel the warmth of each other

where our bodies touch

but we pretend not to...

we pass the joint, we pass our eyes

we pass our smiles and our laughter

it’s two a.m. and the fire of the sky

is all we need to watch over us