2.

The windshield’s cracked
and I like to romanticize it
for poetry’s sake
while I’m drinking
gas station wine alone.
With the moon
disapproving of my decisions.

3.

The sun-dried
forest green machine
navigates through the night
like a Shakespearian ghost
looking for its forlorn love
or long lost revenge.
But don’t tell her I said that.
She hates Shakespeare.

Randy Heflin Jr. was born and raised in Phoenix. His hobbies include video games, pizza, burritos, napping, beer, and mindlessly scrolling through various social media apps.