I miss driving with you.

Cruising down summer roads,
any roads
music up.

You ask me to
play you music that
I used to play when driving.

But I can't remember
any of those songs.

I miss the feeling,
the feeling of the steering wheel
beneath my wrists.

Miss the sounds and smells
Miss the feeling of being carefree.

We need a car of our own.
So I can drive you around
again.

My drivers license is sitting unused
after years of abuse.

I want to be your driver,
be your chariot.

There was something so sweet
about the in between moments.

Something I thought only I noticed.

But she noticed too.
In her minds eye.

She sees me see her,
hand on thigh.

I just want to drive her again.
I want to buy her a Mercedes Benz.

Just to chase those moments.

The ones in between.

Between home and destination.
Between heart and palpation.