I feel  drying contacts sticking out from my eyes,
dragging their silicon edges into my egg whites
looking onto a road I’ve never seen.

She is asleep, next to me, sitting shotgun. I don’t mind.
She is somewhere else, dreaming, those crazy little scenes.
She imagines a world, one of happy changes, and simple things

In an hour or so she’ll wake up and ask
how long she slept, and I’ll lie.
“a couple minutes or so” to save her worry.
And though I see her eyes drift off and descend,
I know, she’ll come back to me, again.