If you were to release
another whisper
into the mouth
of the night,

If you were to crack
the knuckles
of the chain-link
fence once again,

Shuffle across
the gravel's
dry and scratching
throat,

Shift yourself
in between
the tongues of
city lights,

It would not be the same
as the first time you tucked
the sun behind your ear and said:
“Keep driving, we've got time to ****.”