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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.

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