Bright night. Stars in the background and love at the seams. Air rolling in the windows at 55 miles per hour, and hunger just a dream that’s passed.
The hot sticky road of the day is a memory lodged; the future, experiences to be made. And all melt into a combination, in the bright night, with the stars.
“Would you,” She turns to you and adjusts her dress. “Love me more- if we’d met two years ago?”
But you don’t answer. You look through the windshield, the wind beating in your ears, the lines of dust on the windshield over your eyes. And you thank G-d you were born in this time.
Years later, lives later, you’re living in a house in the country. And every now and then you can almost hear her go by, driving 55.
You look at the sky, clouds scattered but moving in a harmonious formation, towards where you’ll never know. You say west, but that’s your heart putting out its best guess.
You think back to that brown dress, that smile that had happiness embedded from the start, light another cigarette and wait for the avalanche of stars.
Years later, lives later, you’re living in a house in the country. And every now and then you can almost hear her go by, driving 55.
You look at the sky, clouds scattered but moving in a harmonious formation, towards where you’ll never know. You say west, but that’s your heart putting out its best guess.
You think back to that brown dress, that smile that had happiness embedded from the start, light another cigarette and wait for the avalanche of stars.