Driving East, and Through Her
Driving East through winter rains
on the way to meet ourselves.
We were drinking something mixed with champagne
toasting the future and our health.
You wouldn't roll me a cigarette
so I was steering with my knees.
While in the road ahead rain turned into snow
drifting through the open window silently.
Got into town and found a bed
and we lay down for a little while.
We rearranged our bodies
and became for a little while.
And all the distance between us
disappeared for a little while.
But when we came down
it still felt like a thousand miles.
In the woods you were a faun
and I was following in your tracks.
Waiting for the moments in between
when you were looking back.
The morning canyon wind was so
California cold
and so I let you wear my
Midwestern hat.
Even then I must have known
in half a year you would be mailing it
Northwestern back.
From when you were the first.
Those days became some photographs
I wish that I had not received.
Became a distant past
at times impossible to believe.
But I will recall you on that trail
collecting memories of your own.
I will recall you draped in furs
and when you called me your home.
When you were the first
and the last thing on my mind.
The only thing on my mind.