That song comes on the radio again,
that song that sounds like heartbeats and energy
and anticipation
and lost youth.
That song that would have spoken to me of desire
had I known what desire was then,
instead of just rising storm.

Riding in the dark, driving, and
you looked over at me.
Your face lit by the dash lights,
one hand on the wheel,
trees leaning over the road that pulls us through the hills.
I couldn’t keep still and I didn’t know why,
and I felt you laughing at me
but it was ok.
I was laughing at you too,
drunk on anticipation
and a sort of power, like if I touched you
it’d spark.

I don’t know where you are now.
That was a lifetime ago.
But that song,
with its heartbeats and hum of rising power,
that song haunts my waking dreams
and dreams my waking haunts to life
where I am once-again riding in the dark
with your face lit by the dash lights.

It’s not the same here.
The trees don’t reach for the car in the same way,
the hills are softer,
the road pulls less urgently toward different mysteries.
I can’t listen to that song on the radio
or I’d drive right off the map.

My mundane life would miss me.

Right now, I need the night to be flat
and exactly as it appears.
Go to sleep, memoried lover.
I’ll see you again.
Close your eyes, let the dash lights fade.
The roads will pull us both again,
but not tonight.
Tonight, sleep.
That song, the heartbeats and rising-power hum
will wake you and call you forth again
when it’s time for one last ride.

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