Love, After

[wasellajam]

Love, After (edit 1, the Pen)

Thirty years of clutching
the wheel through blizzards
and black ice skids.

Twenty years of habitual
designated driving,
hand over glass.

Ten years now of you
offering up the passenger seat,
I watch the hills roll.

Love, After

Thirty years of clutching
the wheel through blizzards
and black ice skids.

Twenty years of habitual
designated driving,
hand over glass.

Today, yesterday, tomorrow
I automatically aim
for the passenger door,
sink into music I haven’t chosen
and read.