night rider

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Nothing like that late night ride. Wind whirling through the rolled-down windows, the moon winking from the skylight. Leather seats toasted warm enough that the cool air soaring by soothes your flushed cheeks. His cherished voice crooning along with acoustics blasting as you rush by speaking to all your thought-winding trains. Forgotten conversations skipping the repeat, repeated, repeating. Traces of faces fog the windshield and cannot erase the whispered words. The night is old but I still feel so young, just keep pushing the pedal until I’m amongst those suns.

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