We were in a car; you on the wheel,
me on the passenger seat.
The hood of the car gleamed, painted teal.
I kicked off my shoes, baring my pink feet.
Your jet black hair ruffled by the wind
and I sang loudly to a song you hate.
I burst out laughing every time you winced
then we drove until the night grew late.

We were in a car; you on the wheel,
me on the passenger seat.
We debated where do we go for a meal
until our throats grew parched from the heat.
Your sweat gleamed in the sunlight
and you laughed at my running make up.
We watched shooting stars at night
while scooping up cookies and cream from a tub.

We were in a car; you on the wheel,
me on the passenger seat.
You recited a poem about how you feel
every time our eyes and fingers meet.
You placed a hibiscus in my hair
and kissed many parts of my skin.
Telling me how you could not bear
to leave me. Through thick and thin.

We were in a car; you on the wheel,
me on the passenger seat.
We broke out in a peal
with each joke and pun you uttered.
I grew fond of your warm voice,
especially when you read out loud
from the thick book of poetry and prose;
going in circles, jammed roundabouts.

We were in a car; you on the wheel,
me on the passenger seat.
On August first, we made a deal.
That we'll stick with each other, won't cheat.
We did our handshake and giggled
when we kept messing up, then started over.
One hand on the wheel, you struggled
like a rookie flame thrower.

We were in a car; you on the wheel,
me on the passenger seat.
You parked by the roadside to kneel
and asked me to be yours on February 13th.
I laughed and I cried and you did the same
when I said "yes" almost immediately.
We cried a lot and you were never ashamed
of emotions. You always wear it beautifully.

We were in a car; you on the wheel,
me on the passenger seat.
Fresh bride and groom, I let out a squeal
of happiness for I love you with every heartbeat.
We drove around for our honeymoon,
picked up languages to dance in our mouths.
Wide awake at nighttime, sleeping in afternoons,
different adventures, different months/

We were in a car; with me on the wheel,
you on the passenger seat.
Went for a check-up when you felt ill.
We picked up a scattered magazine to read
as doctors and nurses bustled in and out.
We were assured that you will be fine
so we continued to drive and shouted
at your sickness to leave you alone.

We were in a car; me on the wheel,
your clothes on the passenger seat.
Try as you might, you couldn't seem to heal.
I couldn't take in all the deets.
All I remember was our deal and I had
to laugh at the irony. The only person
who cheated was life. Now you're dead
and I'm left, driving alone on this transition.

-m.b