Two miles down a dirt road
and still no sign,
no mailbox to pin
everything into place.
The engine purring,
inside, everything shimmied,
the tape deck, our touching.
Where we always went
when we didn’t go home.
That back seat, a universe
where nothing hurt us.
And the river swelled.
Two miles down a dirt road
and still no sign,
no mailbox to pin
everything into place.
The engine purring,
inside, everything shimmied,
the tape deck, our touching.
Where we always went
when we didn’t go home.
That back seat, a universe
where nothing hurt us.
And the river swelled.