TWO-WAY STOP

i love to kiss her

my lesbian friend
when saying hello
or goodbye

i never go for the lips
or even the cheek
i dive

for the base of the neck
where that collarbone
scoops out
a lovely depression

where the heart lung and nerve
trade pulses
like the smoothest freeway
exchange you ever saw
and my mouth
searches

for that cellular dividing line
that changes traffic forever

turning her one way and me another

and i wonder where it is
where that answer is buried

in science
in childhood
or under my kiss
beneath her lovely depression

but that doesn't matter

doesn't matter at all
and neither do I.

NIGHT PASSAGE

riding the highway
at night
on a bus

half-a-dozen
of us travellers
scattered
in the forty-two seats

dozing
or chatting
maybe reading
or just staring
at the inside
of our own skulls

i like the distance
between the towns
stretches of field
and pasture
without light

only
the distant treeline
against
the faint sky

and once in a while
a tiny dot
or two
of warm yellow

from
the farmhouse windows

who have night passengers
of their own
to comfort.