I remember the thousand nights before
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
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