Nostalgia crashed head on-
Its headlights seared into my eyes and blinded me as I drove 80 down the rainy highway.

The roads have always been in this same spot,
But 3 months ago my stomach didn't flip and flutter as I rounded each corner
Every sign didn't glow as bright red as they do right now,
And the letters STOP seem to mean something more than a sturdy press on the brakes.

These streets look different from behind a steering wheel..
Do I miss sitting on the passenger side, legs crisscrossed on the seat, staring out the window at the stretch of nothing
Or do I miss the one who always drove the car-
Route memorized, something I could never catch the hang of,
I always miss this exit, he never thought twice about which one it was.

I wonder if I can race nostalgia past the stop lights,
Fly by when it flashes neon green-
It's all meant to be left in the past anyways.