for J. Bailey Hutchinson
with a nod to Nicole Sealey

of course i know the moon
does not follow us
but across iowa
it follows us: blood-
orange and low—before
we know if
my car has been towed,
before we find its halo
of snow from being
plowed around, we eat
fried chicken
in 3 states. 3 nights
from now i will want
to cease existing
but today: podcasts
and playlists from
our younger growing,
a moon recently full
and tonight not quite
but still it holds
at least your attention,
an object at which
we wonder. if we
are finding how
to live now
and not just prepare
for the next thing:
let me not want again
for a soon death, but instead
praise this: the plow
driver letting a car
in a lot take up
just a little space; the highway
that keeps this car moving
while the moon
appears fixed so far above;
our bodies, when measured
against the road,
going 60 miles-
an-hour, but, in reference
to each other,
going nowhere.