Every time that dam song
comes on, I'm back in the car
with you.
We're driving, and driving,
because you've just turned 18,
and you can stay out past midnight.
We get hot chocolates from McDonalds,
and my legs tucked under me,
my high heels from dinner kicked off.
It's November, and we're just kids
playing at being adults, in your borrowed
Honda and our cocktail dresses.
Remember this, someone says from
the backseat, every time you hear this song,
but she doesn't know I will.
I can remember that night so clearly,
so well, but the irony is, I can't really
remember you at all.