I don't know where I am I don't know who I am, but I know that you like to keep your left arm swinging out of the window or you hate when I turn my head in the opposite direction of your face. The windows and windshields fear of kissing you at the wrong time and so do I. "You've passed by this forest just about a thousand times!" you've always hated the act of getting lost. Yet I still don't know who I am. I have not a clue where I am.* But I do know you love drinking whiskey from the bottle when you've told me to take the wheel. I know your favorite color isn't really a color, its a shade, and you love staring out at it when your head is glued to the side of the window on the passenger side of this car. I don't know where I am, or who I must be but I do know you and your little things. *Here's to getting caught with you.