Unknown

36

We drove all night straight on through morning and every time I thought you were finally asleep and I started really talking and singing to you, at you, for you that damn smile would spread over your faux-slumbering face and you'd snort and laugh at me, reach out one of those damn hands that sits at the end of your fantastic fucking arms and ruffle the soft hairs on my neck. and that chinese fire drill around and around the car in the middle of the historic 66 that made the quiet hitchhiker titter nervously was an inspired moment that I'm trying to shove into the dresser drawers of unforgettable recollection but it doesn't really fit and keeps spilling out into fantastical embellishment where your circles around the rental car burned with blue fire and the horns that sprouted from your forehead were both sexy and demure. and now I'm watching you eat my blueberry pancakes right off my plate and I don't even care. Lately: the bounce in my step, the roll in my flow, the gleam in my eye, the brass in my pocket, the breakfast in my kitchen, thumb-war grudge matches.