Even lying on the hood of the car,
her head on my shoulder, fingertips
slipped under my shirt twirling
my chest hairs in circles–

it was like knowing the ending before
you chose to begin–

the moon was a sliver of a hangnail
backlit with the history
of a thousand lashes of light,
the depressions filled with sand and dust

older than shadows. The divots
a paint-by-number exploration
of past faults and future failures . . .

and that’s when she told me she loved me
because after years of practice
she found she had a talent for it.

§ § §

Gary L. McDowell is a recent graduate from Northern Illinois University where he studied literature and creative writing. He has been published in Towers, Shades of December, and Reflections. He has work upcoming in The Mid-American Poetry Review. Gary recently won the Richard H. Howland Award for excellence in poetry writing from Northern Illinois University.

These pieces were first published in INK POT #4 - 2004, a literary journal.

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