Driveways long and wide meant for cars,
Driving up and down and back and forth
To and from.
Driveways cold and hard meant for basketballs,
Dribble dribble, hook shot, jump.
Driveways with him, soft and warm,
watching thick cigar smoke roll out his mouth; the lonely stars as our company.
My hair rich with the consuming linger of grey puffs my tongue licking slowing up his strong neck.
His heartbeat in my ear.
My hand behind his head.
Driveways meant for moments, meant to provide a path only to stand still.