Condensation

November 2, 2007
By
Condensation on windows
The blur of evergreen trees
First class backseats
Bright eyes gazed into mine
The darkest of teal

The car drifts

into the cryptic labyrinth
They smiled and laughed—
Wrapping ribbons around their foreheads
The darkest of rouge

I stared at my pale fingers
As she counted the headlights on the road

and wrote her initials on the window

We drove around in circles
The shape we made was obscure

through the condensation on the windows

She held my hand—
the lightest of touch

Clear your mind she whispered
As she kissed my nose
I blushed

the lightest of peach

Vania Myers





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