driving toward the end of summer, with the windows all the way down.
dave matthews singing through the speakers.
the air outside smells like bonfires, late nights, swimming pools, friends.
i drive past my best friend’s house, my elementary school, the place we used to sit in your car with our last few minutes of curfew.

i turn the steering wheel clockwise, directing myself home.
fireflies landing on the windshield,
distant nights landing on my mind.

i pull into my driveway, blanketed by the quietness of tonight,
for the last time before everything will change.