truck stop sexcapades

you wait for me  
in the  
shadows  
I know  
which one is  
you  
(it's the gravity)  
 
you fling  
the heavy door  
open wide  
and invite me  
into your    
world  
maneuvering among    
remnants of  
your trucker's diet  
(it's killing you)  
and secondhand DVD's  
 
you-  
in that stupid  
Kansas City Chiefs    
beanie-  
(the fact that your team sucks    
doesn't make you any less adorable)  
 
this is the last    
time I will    
ever feel    
you  
and I'm trying  
to forever etch  
this vision of  
you (my heart)  
into that sacred  
recess (where you have always lingered)  
 
illuminated in    
garish fluorescents
promising 24 hour buffets  
waving the curl  
of smoke  
from cloying,    
gas-station incense  
in that  
dumb  
fucking  
 hat.  
(it worked).  
(I love you).