all the while, trying to start the engine

(for Jupiter)

between waking and sleep, two switches flicker

connecting stop-starts from Life and Now 

when we were young, car floors seemed endless

dried mud, lost change, the astronomical reach under the driver’s seat

do you remember standing on the roof? (the antenna reaching into space)

do you remember sitting on their lap? (the switch flickers)

we don’t have to ask how it got into the river

the current laps at the car door (the moon is close)

your arm makes a rainbow over the steering wheel 

your head turns to the right of time

V idles in a truck beside you 

you indicate but she doesn’t let you in 

cue man and dog, dreaming of dolphin tricks (that switch again)

we don’t have to ask how the car got onto dry land

the engine, now full of river (your foot on the clutch)

dolphin-man and dog in the rearview mirror (your eyes flicker)

the hills open their lungs and breathe you in

as you lay in bed, do you swallow at each hilltop or do you hold your breath? 

Jupiter, in that sea of night, we can’t avoid vast oceans or tidal waves 

reaching into space, aren’t we constantly learning to drive?

^{Footnote: this poem was created using the Dreams or memories constraint as the starting point.}