We shared two oranges in your car
under a partial solar eclipse
in a field off the interstate
somewhere in rural Indiana
with all the people
who didn't make it to Indianapolis.
We chased the path of totality
down the interstate from Chicago.
A few hours in we knew
we weren't going to make it there
and neither was everyone else
crawling through highway traffic.
We could've kept chasing totality,
creeping through Indiana at a snail's pace,
praying we made it in time.
or, we could pull off the interstate where we were,
park the car,
and watch what we could
through the skylight of your Nissan.
We laid in the grass
of the field we found ourselves in,
wind turbines in the distance
under a clear blue expanse,
us and the sliver of the sun
and two shiny oranges
and everyone who didn't make it
to Indy.
We didn't reach
the once-in-a-lifetime streak across the map
but we had our field off I-65
somewhere in Indiana
and we'd done all we could.
So we laid in the grass
under the eerie dim sunlight
and the great blue sky
was all ours.