DRIVE
Chopsticks in hand,
You drive
Fried rice falls
into your lap
Words and laughter
fog the windows
You drive
I care not where we're headed,
only that we arrive
all too quickly
Drive
Because I have so much more to say
and every word exhaled
will keep me in your presence
Our thoughts
tangle, weave, twist
around us
This could continue forever
and I wish, somehow, it would
Your words melt within my mind,
Not the meaning, but
the sound, your voice
I smile
I smile at the darkness
and at the curve of your gentle lips,
your mouth,
your fingers,
and at those clumsy chopsticks
that balance along this tightrope
where we linger in the dark
Drive
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Posted on 3/10/2009