shaking hands

I know not to
glimpse and hope
on the way back up
from San Antonio

follow these crumbling rural roads
beneath empty skies beating down
gripping anxiety from want or foolish wishing
plead trembling hands stay at my side

I used to be
so rational
before the second time
we met

to carry myself as a whole
but now my eyes, splintered like glass
are slivers that spread and stab all the rest