Coffeehouse-March 2014

At 11:28 pm they got into the car.

Turned on the heat turned on a dime turned out okay, maybe, turned their skin inside out looking for answers. They could have been on the windshield but there was too much steam, there. The world is such a harsh place, but not in here. 

They hadn't felt comfortable in it anywhere else for the past twelve years, let backs bend with breezes instead of prickling goose bumps, throw expectation to the pavement and, well, pound it, play house without mortgages or septic systems, they would play it here, they would play it tonight,
I've never wanted to keep someone so safe in my life.

Never wanted to trace scars so much in my life, so fast, something so infantile, see, we have the same ones. The moonlight hitting the dash is making them glow more than usual, they're so god damn beautiful, you make me feel not like a robot.

I hate feeling like a robot so thanks for that, thanks for this drizzle of rain rolling down the window and pyx 106 and tracy chapman, thanks for taking a chance on me and thanks for thinking manic fits are endearing, I'm through with the fearing, of tomorrow or the dwelling in the past I'm here I'm really here in the car.

The snow around the tires is puddling because it's so warm we're changing February we're altering the climate this is coming from a skeptic but I swear it's happening,
I think this car might be Noah's ark. 
Because we have to be preserving some degree of humanity here, somehow I've found my sanity here, do you hear the way that swing set is swaying for us? 
The monkey bars are creaking for us? 
I used to sit on them as a child I'm not a child but I feel childlike, renewed, free, turning to a blank page here's a pen, start writing. 

At 1:07 am they got out of the car. It was a new day, a new February, both knowing that spring would come much, much earlier this year.