edited version + alternate

at night we would hide with our flashlights
under a blanket of asphalt, and with a blunt penknife,

we'd scratch out our names beneath the avenues,
hoping they'd be recognized, hoping
we'd be there to see it. on good, clear days,
we'd sling hammocks from streetlight
to streetlight, and try to unwind.
we learned all the words of each song
that briefly greeted us from the windows of passing cars.
we were most comfortable in the back alleys
but aspired to the interstates and freeways.
our fingers would never touch a map,
and our eyes avoided road signs;
we had never set a destination, and never would,
but we hoped it'd be good when we got there.