We’re sailing on a cloud of
Fog, dense grey
A sleek bullet speeding

His town has four stop lights,
And school closings due to fog
In the late spring.

In the mornings when we wake
Tangled up, drool stains on the edges of
His smile, I hear the dog next door bark,

And watch the sun slowly pierce
Through the thickness of the sky.
His big hands, full of sleep find my eyes,

And slowly graze my eyelashes,
The sun slowly hums in morning groans into
Each of my pores.

Even in the heat of summer, we drive with the wind
Whipping around us,
So loud that even our voices cannot break through.