Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Quercus Aug 2014
You pass on my left.
Open shirt flapping with windows down.
Her head is on your lap looking up,
Smiling while telling you something.
Her feet dangling out the window.
You laugh with your with your whole body.
Head tilted back, pulling yourself against the wheel.
Then you are past.
Left turn signal on for miles because nothing exists outside the two of you.

— The End —