"It's going to be snowing"
I hate it when your doomsday predictions are right.
But now that you are, I wish you were here.
And in the dark with a sharp wind I'm blinded
and driving home, alone.
When I flip on the high beams, it looks like hyperdrive kicked in and we made the jump to light speed.
But there is no "we" and I'm alone, going home, at thirty-five
Which feels a little risky.
If you were here, you.'d tell me to slow down... So annoyingly.
But, at least it would be your voice
With 20 degrees in my vision field, the world may just as well have evaporated.
And driving home without you, it feels like it too.
If I was a hound, I'd smell my way through this night.
like infrared for my nose.
But all I smell is the half eaten banana and the cheap pine car scent
hanging from the rear view mirror like its some thing anyone would want to look at
Why did you put that there?
Why do I make these trips alone, without you?
My hands are sweaty. I can tell I'm gripping the wheel too tight.
I'm tense and losing perspective of the road, my speed,
the snow flakes on the windshield start to command my attention.
I'm looking only 18 inches in front of me.
I need to relax - pretend like I'm drunk so if I wreck, I may not get hurt as much
I wish you were here. Your fear would ground me.
Instead, my fear imperils me.
We're that way.
Better together, in a snowy night, on a lonely road.
Heading home.
.
