“Should I roll the windows down?”
The wind slips through your hair
Highway painted tangerine
You smile and softly say,
“It smells like summer”
Like melting ice in a glass
You slowly sink into my night
I keep pretending to fix the radio
But I’m just looking at you again
“Why are you staring like that?”
You laugh like you already know
I don’t answer
I just look up at the burning sky
