I feel you in this car.
Your hair spurs like falling wisps of sunlight,
prancing and dancing as they fall gracefully onto the grey
interior. The imprint of your body is too hard to bear.
I face forward.
When the fans start to sing their final song; the rattle with a sore lung,
I hear your breath, tearing through the clearing fog.
The drop of water is you.
The twitching light is you.
The tired rumble from a weary engine, you, you, you, I feel you in this car.
I face a cool, dewy morning,
the fruit-baring trees shuffle through waking ruffles,
An orange-tinted world breaking through the cracks between brown
leaves; It reminds me of an image I thought lost, a gentle fire, the warm halo.
I see you there, you, you, you.
Those warm, orange arms extend to brush my shoulders,
It’s time to rest.
I feel you in this car.
When the morning stretches
over the horizon, when the moon dims under her blue blanket,
When the world sighs, says good morning dove - it is time to stir,
You, you, you.