Our proclamations of love move, on highways and hills, alleys and still, each question or embrace seem to forget its past in our daily enclosure. We sit side by side with our shoulders apart but sometimes I lean closer for a kiss, sometimes you reach across the gearbox to hold my hand. We love in endless repeats, we think, only remembering that when a new vocabulary grazes at our lips, we love through blinding exponentials.
And as we go, we are building narratives. The high speed lines beneath our feet are brackets to our speech, ‘What’s for dinner, loved one? What’s for cheap? What else could I have done? Please don’t leave.’ Sometimes I rest my lazy feet on the dash; others, bruises wane with the car parked under our talking tree.
That when we close the doors beside us, a new chapter unfolds and we pick the same phrases we stored at the back seat or we speak new ones while the engines creak. Whatever they may be or whatever they hold, these words may decay when it’s time for new roads, but love remains in our ventricular homes and finds new abode in whatever unfolds.