So you see I was
driving today on the
beltway and I was
playing that CD that you
made for me last summer

and the windows were open and
the sun was setting and
I turned that song up to
drown out the wail of the
suburbs.

I remembered that time when
we made out in your car for hours and
this song was on repeat but
we were too busy to change it and
so it reminds me of you.

I wish you were next to me.
My hand hands out the window and
drags against the night–
nerves humhumming, wind torquetorque–
and I wish you would talk
but you don’t answer your phone anymore.