Riding in Cars with You


Opening the doors and sliding onto black leather seats.


Squinting as sunlight reflects off of the sunglasses hanging on your rearview mirror.


Glancing at the road, the traffic lights, the trees, the buildings. Anywhere but at you. 


Building up courage, stealing a glance at your profile, absorbing your jaw-line, the slope of your nose, the arch of your eyebrows into my memory. 


Looking away after seeing you glance at me. 


Blushing. Trying to slow down the rapid beating of my heart, the blood rushing to my cheeks. 


Talking. Listening as words flow from your mouth like water down a stream and  internally groaning as I respond quietly, awkwardly, my words falling like a boulder down a hill made of pillows. 


Laughing. You always make me laugh and, somehow, I make you laugh, too. 


Looking up, realizing that I’m at the drop-off, that I have to leave.


Sinking; my heart is sinking, drowning in the water of your words that fills the car. 


Following me, the waters stay with me until I see you again; my life preserver. 


Riding in cars with you is my favorite thing, the best thing. 


Getting out and walking away... 


That’s the worst. 



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