Splitting center backseat
we stared forward, hand-in-hand,
and that song, in addition to anxieties about a goodbye,
filled the small car

“Meanwhile back at mama’s”
I wondered if the hum of it was just as sweet for You
And if You, too, glared at that bright blue screen on the stereo,
itched by its audacity to beam so bright on our tired, sensitive eyes

We weaved through a still world
of stars and deer and green
Moms eyes had memorized the road,
squeezed tight by the Niccolé

We ceased to speak for there was nothing to say
and no sound more suitable than silence behind that soft song
So the road unwinded and my heart swelled,
and my emotions blossomed like a spring-kissed poppy

An audience of evergreens and pines
hovered over our path
to gaw
upon our rookie emotions

You mourned, too
Your doleful face sent knives to my gut with every time
You turned to look at me
Yet Your baby blue eyes and blushed cheeks were solace

And once we arrived at Your home
we whispered farewell, until next summer

Now,
a song can make me ache
And you
and I
have grown old

And I remember the times
Your eyes laid on me
after mine
had returned
forward

And I recall when You clenched my hand
turning onto Highway 32
I realize
You were stalling time
when we stood, stupefied on my driveway

3000 miles apart, but our story had just been pitched
How perfectly mistimed our timing,
and how utterly we confused
fairy tale and
nightmare