squished sardines

in the backseat tin
a flask makes its rounds
mouths glint   gulp   grin
silver scales flash in laughter
the bass breaks like surf    

parked beneath streetlights 
silver fins slip on cement
autumn night tastes of salt 
the sky clear 
the moon gone 
i look for her between branches 

i wade through drinking dancers 
a girl pukes kelp at my feet
lovers sink on thrifted couches 
my flask grows light 
my school long gone 

i find my own lover 
the bed another tin 
his sweat eats my silver 
i dream the pull tab lifting 
a fish rehearsing flight

down to the basement 
a new sea of smoke and plywood 
powder glints 
a false horizon 
one inhale — 

i break the surface 
my lungs flood with light 
a flying sardine 
uncrushed silver 
reaching for                                                                                     my moon

i find her waiting 
pale patient 
watching me rise where i 
should swim.