Midnight and Summer

I remember when we drove through the night—talk about coffee—

you told me where you were born and how you got here.

Your favorite music’s my favorite music—uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh—

my hand on the wheel—one on your thigh…

You sat Radio DJ—skipped before the song’s complete.

“Are you hungry?” you said, then drifted asleep.

“My mom had a friend who flew out the window—”

            I listened while driving, like being the breeze.

Silence and movement—the stars stayed in place.

We inhaled and exhaled air—midnight and summer.