Has Anyone Seen

my innocence? Kept

in this old gray box;

a fistful of dry leaves

turned up to receive

rain.

It must have died

planted deep

in the ground

I forgot I‘d buried

it in, now a decayed

and long

disintegrated memory.

or did I lose it long ago

in my 77‘ Nova

with you in my lap

shifting gears, pulling

the hill in low gear?

hands on my shoulders,

hips swaying to the 80s

lost in the rhythm

of your thighs.