Convertible (Emma Skogstad)

Your red car
speeds us farther and farther into now
into ourselves into the night wind
the wind beats against our skin
as the car follows the road’s turns
music pounds loud around us
and out into the night air
dun dun dun
and you sing
and I laugh and you drive
and I watch the night sky.
We fly in your red car
(sadness sits waiting
she can’t fly)
and nothing else is real
for a while—
we are
we are
we are
the beat of the night air,
the music,
the road,
and your red car.