​My scooter strains against itself
a dying battery, perhaps. I am
barely able to spot you gliding
in the distance. I see us
for a moment, as if from overhead,
two specks forging space between 
themselves, invisible until it isn’t, 
organic growth. You claw 
to the city’s spark, the skyline
sprouting as I grow tired 
of the version of myself who once 
worked in towers, drank kombucha 
on tap. At the bar, later, we will 
sip beers, toast ourselves, pretend, 
for a moment, that we are still.
​​
Joe Neary is a PhD candidate in English Literature at The University of Kentucky, and a co-founding editor of Flyover Country Literary Magazine (@countryliterary). His work has appeared in The Cleveland Review of Books, Olney Magazine, and the quint: an interdisciplinary quarterly from the north. 
image: scott evans via unsplash