Road Trip (Summer 2007)

(Dumb title. Dedicated to Devy ov, RIP Baby Honda. Oh and Elyse, since she was our destination...)

The Honda is tan,
but I prefer to describe it
as dull gold. The inside is full
with evidence of our lives there
(cause this past month
its been more our car than her car.)
Burned mixes and albums form last decade,
with faces full of scratches and nostalgia,
some empty water bottles and at least
five pairs of sunglasses,
plus a red lighter and small gold key.

Today our trip winds through mountains,
the valleys littered with horses and haystacks
and other indications of a small and rural life.
As we drive I become fascinated with this
landscape, listening
for the lines I can sing along with.
No matter how far we drive
we can't seem to lose the mountains.

We don't always have to talk,
we aren't pressured to fill the inside
with our bullshit.
The truth is, it's already full to the brim
and we know it so well
there's no need to rehash it.

With one foot on the dash board
I light our two Blacks
and say "we need a shower."
We glance at each other from behind
oversized sunglasses, the I hand you
your cigarette and we begin
to smoke and sing simultaneously.
This feels familiar, you navigating
with me shotgun to light our cigarettes.
I inhale and blow towards the window,
feeling the air conditioning chill against my calf.

It's been hours
and you've been speeding
but we still haven't lost the mountains
or the skinny roads
or the patterns of filtered light
that the trees (the greenest trees
I've ever seen) leave
on the two lane highway.