Route 404 in the Dark

I remember pulling over
and fucking you behind some rhododendrons.
You don’t remember because you were a whore
and it was dark outside.

When I say you were a whore,
I don’t mean you were a prostitute.
I was just the fourth of my friends to fuck you that summer,
and everything gets confusing after dark.

We were riding my motorcycle
and I was almost out of gas.
I told you we might run out to make you hold me tighter.
It was dark on route 404.

Then I pulled over.
And we all know what happened
behind the rhododendrons before dawn.
Aren’t we all afraid to be alone in the darkness?

M. Henault