Vineyards reach as far as a BART train
for several stations down a two-lane highway
stretching into night and hugging the ground
where love walked away grabbing her hand.
In a hybrid car she told her mother
how a man cleaned her out with a dab of his finger,
traced her lips, the crows feet in her eyes
then called her name to the stars in disguise.
Together they altered weather patterns,
changed a winter storm into a summer caftan.
Those first few months from couch to car,
they stirred clockwise into each other
tap dancing on the highlights of dawn
in rivulets, torrents, up-side-down
guitar strings stretched for several octaves
along a fault and into mountain ranges
leaving the bones of her smashed life set,
injury into dust disintegrated.
Listening, her mother understood how love
shakes a woman down for everything she’s worth.