red light, stasis

she leaned out the window—but it’s
my birthday
—and I could see
mascara running down her face
in streams
blacker than the river Styx.

rolled windows to separate worlds.
hers from mine; misery from joy; the air
between us tittering with potential.

her friend the driver must have seen this, the
contamination that tapped at my window, motorcycle
cop or memories of drunkenness.

sorry, she mouthed. or maybe it was sober
an explanation, defense. but the glass between.
distortions that forced meaning that
trapped me in my car with the ghost of you,

the night neither was sober, both
were sorry. both trapped
in static silence
by the cop, wide-eyed and shaky
as we fumbled for our pants—
sorry, sorry.

Phillip Gregory Spotswood was born in Mobile, AL, into a family of nine children. Currently he resides in Tuscaloosa, AL, and graduated from the University of Alabama in May 2013 with a degree in English and Creative Writing. Recently he paid for a drifting astronaut to be tattooed on his left forearm, and senses that the image will forever haunt his work. He is addicted to running in the dark.

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1 Response to red light, stasis

  1. Pingback: Eunoia Review «In Media Res In Media Res

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