"On car rides" by Rebecca Herrera
if only i could get in my toyota before the moon dims
the radio on silver springs and warm ways
our voices overlap the words like a ritual
and i miss my exit
you remember those times we drove to the south shore?
the sea flushed lavender and the sun
tinted the sky like a mai tai
saltwater curling my hair like love
do you still have that same chevrolet?
with the sunroof and wooden panel on the side?
i named my new car daisy after an air freshener
i bought in an autozone, or after the great gatsby
there are no memories of you in my new car
no memories of stars on a pitch-black skyline
admiring hoboken across the river
no memories on 59th in front of the van goghs
my gas tank is almost empty
a clean slate
Rebecca Herrera is an artsy, strawberry-haired kid born and raised in New York. They graduated from the Fashion Institute of Technology with a degree in Art History. She has had work featured in The Aurora Journal, Hecate Magazine, Stuck in Notes, and more. She currently lives in an apartment with her two plants, Orpheus and Eurydice.