My fingers ache of gasoline,
reek of tiny cuts and missing skin
along the backside of my hands.
My veins will never be as beautiful
because of you.
I did not bring a jacket.
The rain flicks at me and
flattens down my hair,
invades my canvas shoes.
My lips are chapped together—
I had no words left anyway.
My chest is in a different car
and will not need to stop for gas.
It will beat me there,
start pacing, waiting
for my brain to get there soon.
Christopher Eskilson: I am an emerging poet and undergrad at Pitzer College studying English and World Literature. I am an editorial intern at Red Hen Press in Pasadena, California, and a senior editor at The Student Life Newspaper of the Claremont Colleges. My work has appeared in the Apeiron Review, 30 N (formerly the North Central Review), Green Blotter, and others.