Long drives just won't let me--keep the music out of the backseat
and half-raised antennas can't hope to hold her stations
or any FM band we used to play for
on those trips to Fords in search of rare polycarbonate
and hand-written notes we'd talk.
About then I first knew you
and while friends held their breaths past cemeteries
l could never escape the smell
of your strawberry chapstick I imagined on my neck.
These nights I wish you were still my second observer
'cause when I blink the lights are bound to saunter differently
and what if they never came back?
