spent at red lights with my knees against the glove box,
and your foot flat down on the pedal,
the heart of the engine humming,
my heart driving in you.
I remember standing with my feet
in your lap and my arms in the stars,
like wires, reaching, while you drove
across twinkling bridges with no
final destination.
I remember dancing on the sides of
highways late at night,
your car blasting tunes to the
beat of heartbeats pressed together,
kept by choice in sync.
And I imagine you now, still racing
red lights, and crossing those bridges, and
dancing well.
I imagine you’ve locked my heart in the glove box,
perhaps to keep it safe until
you take our bridges back
home again.
But I know your hands grip the cold steering wheel
like a compass pointing you away, and
I think my heart’s caught in the pedal beneath your feet,
pressed in the silence of a
heartbreaker’s drive.
-Rory Finnegan