Big wheelers circle in the sand
to cut a perfect something
flotsam and carwreck.
The kids see only the size of the
none look at the whales over their shoulders.
climbing to where spouts evaporate
sky, we're clawing up lava-spilt sides
dog to see.
Below is all
perfect circles in the sand,
and the discolored blue from mammals working.
ocean's boundless, we think,
and the kids
can't even throw rocks far enough
to hit us.
dog barks at the whales
instead of them, then he barks even harder—
at Jonah inside the whale
on undigested sand dollars,
can only be imagined.
Even here you have to turn your head
to see all of one, you have to step
back and not fall.
At last the teenagers get out of the trucks
The kids elbow us to look.
My bike floats on a road
without a moon or light, all balance.
I open my mouth, O sole mio
but I fear I will fall
into my voice, it could be
the road, dippy and
So no sound comes out.
I just pedal, well, I breathe but—
A friend bikes out of the black.
I heard you and I hurried.
What did I sing? Our wheels
whine forward. We can't even see
the grass brushing our calves.
Soon the road narrows
and a creek cuts one side,
you can hear water
on its own path, and surely
there's a ditch—surely. We bike in file,
hunched, bearing the dark. If we slow—
A car comes up behind us,
lights off. We pedal hard, harder.
The car comes on anyway,
it is coming. Before its grill heat
there's a terrible crash,
the late pop
of an airbag, there's the ditch
and the grass, we weave and—
There's no sound after, just a metal
We kickstand our bikes in the dark.
No O my god. Just What?
What? my friend, gasping.
We run back.
Someone drove that car.
If we search for it apart, we're lost,
but together, we're doubly blind.
We touch and touch.
The sharp grass, the flitter of insects,
the uneven earth underfoot—
We want not to find
anything. It is the future
we move toward,
and Death says
we will find it,
both of us, and the road
the road the car left,