Night Car

Backseat pretty sleepy
camping out on those nights, in a car carpeted in silk
in sweat
in Clapton
and there is a hush hush
whisper whisper
shift
with a pretty in the backseat
pretty sleepy
In a morning summer, dark with fogged dew
clinging to the outside of the Night Car
driving us up and down through the outer reaches of
my fingertips
of the galaxy
through your eyes


The feeling going down
is like twangs
and bass
on my insides
butterflies rushing my windshields
and climbing down my throat
down to my toes
every breath I bring out
flutters and lifts to the top of the ceiling
ripping the upholstery
breaking glass
shattering every thought
for the first time
never a last time

The backseat
pretty sweet
may carry us down hallways lined in, gold
takes me to places I've been,
but swore I wouldn't return to
not for a long while
gilted in fresh promises
and new problems
but it's all whispers, sticks and stones
shaking hands
rattling bones
in the Night Car
we'll travel pretty far
with a beaut in the backseat