I want it to be night.
I want it to be raining.

Sitting in the stale car, looking through the rain-glossed windows
The raindrops cut through the thin steam emanating from the headlights and dapple in the glow

The rain shivers through my jacket;
Sleeps against my skin

Add: the cold plastic steering wheel, cracked by time and use
Add: the dead air of the car, increasingly humid
Add: the faint sound of our breathing
Add: the quickly fogging glass

The roof is alive with the pummeling, dancing drops and their reflection from the grim black steel and the memories of summer still living in the peeling paint and the time that we sat on your car and dented it but we told your mom it was a falling branch

These memories die into a regular, irregular cut-time autumn jig
I try to sync, but only sink.

You've found the key.

The car starts and we drown in the din.