road trip.

i sit beside you.

i hold your thigh. you hold mine. then the clutch. then my thigh again. i squirm--i'm ticklish there, but i like it.

i smile at your profile--the perfect curves that still feel new to me. the tiny mole on your neck, just beyond your ear.

you wrap your fingers around mine.

i sit beside you.

you listen to hip-hop 80s, rock 70s. i can't get my way--so i listen to my ipod--R&B 90s, soul 60s. i take little breaks to chat with you and eat your Grandma cookies.

between naps, i stare out the window at Fall leaves and country markets. between smiling at my naps, you stare ahead at 64 and 295.

you curse the post-weekend gridlock--"Damnit...I should've stayed on 60." i curse the weather--"Damnit...It's too warm for Fall!"

"look at the cows!" you say, because you know the Virginia child in me wishes i could have one in my backyard.

we steal fast kisses at red lights and in between stalled cars.

you drive. i Google-map. you pump gas. i browse the aisles of Sheetz.

you slide your hand over mine, and wrap it around yours.

i sit beside you.