small moments weigh heavy as the heartfelt exchanges of the romantic;

the doses of molly he takes repel the bandages from a rose's *****

and vindicate almost every awkward handshake ever pushed as an antic.

although sometimes I wonder whether or not I am merely a chauffeur

or the very passenger sitting beside her--equally clueless where we might end up...

but then again, there are no forbidden silences with her.

the cab ride pesters us with pretty zoetrope views on its window side

and the fare has never been this forgiving for such a distant Shangri-La.