I will never glance at my passenger seat again 

without thinking of you.

The instant glisten of teeth

when you hopped in my car

aiming for the cord

to share your music knowledge 

that I cannot fathom.

The shoes you wear every single day

worn out and faded with streaks of black

from the adventures you go on.

The cackle I hear

laughing at your own silly jokes

before I can get a word off of my tongue.

The cold moisture on my hands

holding a cup of vanilla ice cream

with fudge folded in,

our favorite dessert.

The song on the radio

you can’t help but belt the lyrics

kind of like it was your own creation.

The way you say my name

scared of the way I turn my wheel

and jolt the brake. 

One day, it won’t be your seat anymore.

It may be replaced.

I will grab the cord

that was once yours to take.

But there won’t be a day

that I glare at that seat

and you don’t 

poke my mind.