On a whim,
we packed up what little was
left of this strung-out relationship and
rattled out of town in your raucous,
senile rustbucket.

I thought for sure the engine’s cacophony
meant we'd be stuck on the side
of the road in no time, but you
just smiled serenely into the mirror,
pressed the pedal to the floor.

This is why I love you, you know,
because you're calm even
when I'm freaking out beyond
belief and my hair starts to frizz.

Baby, this rope may be
frayed and burn us as it slides along the
palms of our hands, but we hold on
nonetheless, to all that we are,
never slowing, never stopping, rolling
on and on.