it read sixty-five miles
per hour on our way out
of town. My heart was happy
and so was I, (the two are
so rarely spinning in sync.)

it read zero when we reached
the next town and let our feet
move us instead. I can't tell you
how fast we traveled then but my
heart was running faster than the
most technical speedometer could
hope to even guess.

the drive home was forty-five, much
slower and with much purpose. and
as the familiar lights came into view
I realized that I wanted nothing more
than to be 30 miles backwards, in
the unfamiliar town, and stay there
with you
longer.