“I can’t believe
     you listen to this song”
she said, stacking forks; dishes; spoons.
Foot tapping
     inside worn out shoes
as Tracy Chapman sang
        about her fast car.
“I used to hear this song,”

Fast enough
    that we could fly away

“and think just picking up and going.
Not worrying anymore
       about any of this.”

Speed so fast
   Felt like I was drunk

More stacking: cups; knives; wineglasses.
And I had a feeling I
     could be someone
be someone,
           be someone.
And as she left
       I wondered
if she would have taken me with her
in her fast car.