Matthew p. Haubert

From my book Trauma: Songs and Poems

We drove past the river where the night runs thin,

Your jacket on the dashboard, radio humming, hands holding.

The skyline flickered soft, slowly turning to the moons glow,

Ohio in November always feels like letting go.

Street lamps light the pavement, late night diners still open,

We walked to the talk about plans for a future unbroken.

You giggled at the late night inebriated people passing by,

Funny how the little things make us smile.

And the world felt open,

my chest felt tight.

I could feel the ending.

Longing for more time that night.

So here’s to the city lights and the little beautiful memories we don’t save,

To the roads driven dangerously, all the nights we misbehaved.

Why the brightest nights are the shortest ones we have.

Goodbye to the Ohio lights…

Goodbye to the life we planned…

Maybe someday we will meet back in that town,

Find the street we use to walk down together in Ohio snow.