I’m Sorry Laura Salvatori

Sometimes I become transfixed
with the rear-view mirror—after all, images

go by fast. To be safe, I park
and walk. There’s something to be found

roadside in weeds and along fence lines—paper
wrappers, whiskey bottles, and cigarette butts.

Once I found a hair brush and thought of you,
your chiffon dress, dandelion yellow, and my pink lace,

going to prom…two high school beauties,
what could go wrong?      

We got high, laughed about our dates,
and our hot rolled hair set perfect

except after we arrived, I could not walk
into that booming room,

join the gowned and tied. Better to sit outside
and notice the movement of clouds.

How quick stars lose their glitter
as they disappear into the dark.