Brad Rose


Desert Newlyweds


With the top down, we left Needles and drove north all night. The starlight spilled into the darkness, which lay down like a sleeping mountain lion, on the Mojave’s floor. Not far from Searchlight, your left arm snaked around my shoulder, as you leaned-in close to me and pressed your lips to my ear. Heat rose from your mouth and fled from your breathing. I squinted into the black ink of the rearview mirror; nothing, but a lightless wake pushed out behind the car. Your right hand reached forward toward the glowing dashboard and flicked off the car’s headlights. “Sweetheart,” you asked, “have you ever shaved in the dark?”
























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