I wish I could paint the glow
of this row of streetlights
through the moon roof of your car
while the moon itself half-hides
behind the gray, graceful columns
(doric, ionic, or corinthian?)
of the overpass that will take us
to the karaoke bar where the line
to sing will be so lengthy
we’ll return to your bucket seats
and ask Siri to play us music
under the barely perceptible stars.
Amanda Laughtland enjoys writing in spiral notebooks, reading novels, and shopping at the dollar store.