• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 10

Ride or die

This is how close I want us to be
I say stepping back, we are alone
in the gallery outside is a contrast
cerulean sky impaled. Impounded.
Imprinted before us. Mechanical ice

cream rust flavoured soft serve
towering, monumental, star shaped
hubcaps light up the sky like fire-
works but there’s no motion. Rooted
in the ache of the past we are only

present by sight. Oh baby if hubcaps
could talk. Oh the tales they would tell.  
Miles we covered with the windows
down, dirt flying. My feet on the dash,
you driving. Not knowing we’d end

Up here. Look at this pile up
“The gallery will be closing in 10
minutes time” sounds the alarm
It’s time, you say stepping out
we are alone (on the inside) now