We cruised around
in your Shadow
with the top down,
blasting an unpopular
song that in our
unpopular opinion,
we happened to love,
at deafening volume.
You danced well
while driving. Empty
roads woven through
an empty town. There
was that one time we
ended up in that one
boy's neighborhood. We
somehow deducted which
door was his & the Award
For the Most Awkward
Conversation in History
was granted to us. The
Award For the Sexiest
Subtle Hand Through
Windblown Hair went
to him. We drove on,
laughing way too loudly
& hoped he didn't
take it personally. You
recanted Sailor Moon
episodes. I never
saw one iota of
that show except
through your
glitter-lidded eyes.
You said
you needed to stop
for more foundation &
made a joke about what
would happen if the
world saw you without
it. I wanted to apologize
for whoever told you
your face wasn't
good enough. To me
you were the epitome
of true beauty,
a majestic whirlwind that never
stopped. I was swept
away. You &
that white Shadow
convertible. A storm
on a steed. You
rescued me.

JENNIFER PATINO is an Ojibwe poet born and raised in Detroit, MI. Her work has been published in The Ginger Collect, FONT Magazine, and forthcoming in Door is A Jar. She currently resides in Las Vegas, NV with her artist husband. You can check out her micropoetry on Twitter @jenniferapatino.