Like apple cores spinning into oblivion
so go the uncounted beats of my heart.
I lay awake at night
searching the ceiling
hoping to find a pattern that looks like you.
There is none.
If I should run out of gas
on some deserted stretch of highway
would the merciless sun
and the scorching asphalt
distract me for a second from my loneliness?
Or am I doomed to wander this thoroughfare forever?