It's always on a night like tonight.
The drifting backwards, always backwards,
into our old places.
Together, driving our ambitions down blackened back roads
on late night drives without destinations.
Attempting to find ourselves in the space of a beat up Toyota,
we are the wandering souls
that find each other in the late hours of the night.
Drawn to the beat reverberating in the small car
and the thoughts thrown out the window
that fly to the pavement of the black highway.
We are vagabonds.
Searching,
always searching.
But moving backwards,
always backwards,
towards each other.