Sonnet for Infinity

What is more infinite than backseat love,

twined limbs and promises twisted and turned,

Naugahyde sticky hot, fogged glass above.

The innocence of lovers not yet burned.

Hunter’s moon illumines their faces.

A gold passion unmatched in sunlight shines—

eyes blind in concentration—gods give grace,

luck of fools and children granted divine

intervention. Memories will give way

when night turns to day, these fools awake

and forget each vow, each word in this play.

The stage now dark, hearts begin to ache.

Thus disowns desire, love is not sublime.

More infinite than backseat love is time.