Driving home, February 2

The city makes us starless
despite the wintry night;
the pink incandescent haze
and lights of landing planes
are the celestial wonders
of this metropolis.

Driving home, I have
both hands on the wheel,
Over The Rhine on the radio
and your name on my lips.
The dirty sky shudders
and births brightness;
something afire falls
for me. And for you.

Let's shine for a heartbeat
and burn up in the atmosphere.